


Blacklight in Zero Gravity

by nastally



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 2029, Adult Content, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Dark, Eventual Smut, F/M, Freddie the femboy, Grindr filth, I Am Sorry, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Lapdance, London, M/M, Making Out, Modern AU, Morally Grey Characters, New York City, Nipple Play, Objectification, Platonic Froger, Pole Dancing, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Romance, Sex Work, Slow Burn, Social Commentary, Sort Of, Stripper Freddie, Suicidal Thoughts, Villain Paul, a LOT of sexual content, but also a surprising amount of psychology, fashion - Freeform, kind of, opera - Freeform, slightly futuristic au, will add tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: Born in the time of overpopulation, media saturation, X Factor and everyone's obsession with their 15 minutes of fame, Freddie never managed to get a foot on the ladder to success despite all his ambition. At 27 years old, he's making ends meet however he can and still dreaming of something more.One night, a mysterious stranger walks into his life...
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury, Dominique Beyrand/Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury/Original Male Character(s), Joe Fanelli/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 324
Kudos: 141
Collections: Freddie Mercury Weekend 2020!





	1. Mercury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Freddie Mercury Weekend!
> 
> So, here is the AU which has me madly excited and which I could not wait to share with you! (God, I really hope someone out there likes it. That would be nice.) This is a wild mix of the Stripper AU prompt, the plot from Pretty Woman (very vaguely) and a Black Mirror episode. And it's Frian! Who would have thought?
> 
> I couldn't resist the temptation to make a couple of character "mood boards" to go with this fic.  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49971519788/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49971519688/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49971519728/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 
> 
> Thank you very much to BisexualRoger for beta reading and being there!  
> And thank you to Tikini, QuirkySubject and Plainxte for listening to me ramble on about this for weeks. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Rihanna - S&M

\- - -

The light bulbs framing the Hollywood mirror - an almost ironic touch of glamour in the otherwise very perfunctory dressing room - were reflected in his eyes, which looked large and striking, accentuated with dramatic smokey eyeshadow and thick, perfectly winged eyeliner. All of it hauntingly dark on his pale, carefully contoured face. The highlighter on his cheeks and the tip of his nose shimmered. He pursed his lips over his teeth and arched an eyebrow, tilting his chin up and running his fingers along the line of his jaw. His nails caught the light, a coat of midnight black with specks of silver. Matching the touch of silver at the inner corners of his eyes, the silver armlet spiraling around his upper arm. Glossy, black lips carefully stretched over his large front teeth. Freddie brushed his fingertips through his straightened hair, which curled just a little at the tips where it met his shoulders.  
_Vintage goth pinup_ , he thought with a smirk that carried a hint of self-deprecation, and lowered his eyes to the makeup spread out on the table. 

Right, then.

Twenty minutes or so to go. 

Time to get off his arse and have a little look around the club, see what the mood was like. What the clientele was like tonight. 

Tossing everything back into his makeup bag, Freddie unstuck and uncrossed his legs, already longing for the moment when he could peel himself out of these vinyl leggings later. Although admittedly the way they stuck to the pole was quite helpful for this routine, and he did rather enjoy how they looked on him. Skintight as if he’d been veritably poured into them, they did make his legs and arse look exceptionally good. Of course, the stiletto ankle boots also had something to do with it. Freddie both adored and despised them. He loved how they made him feel. Imposing, simply by making him that much taller. Sensual, sexy and daring. He had a couple of pairs and on occasion he'd wear them on a night out, too. Although less so now that he'd come to associate them with work. Besides, a few hours in, his feet were inevitably in agony and at the tragically old age of twenty-seven, Freddie felt all but too old to put up with the pain in favour of a look. At the end of the day, he was someone who could always be found barefoot at home and spent the summer in VANS and ballet flats.  
He'd be ditching the heels for the next routine. But his first look of the night was a very carefully crafted image.

Freddie sighed and took the short leather jacket off the back of the chair, sliding it on over his bare torso. Then he put on and fastened the fingerless leather gloves, and lastly reached for the studded biker cap, perching it atop his head. Out on the stage, one of the girls was just finishing to the upbeat tune of a Nicki Minaj song. 

Freddie made no move to get up. 

It was always at this moment when he felt the most reluctant. When the desire to reach for the wet wipes and take this ridiculously overdone face off, pulling on a jumper, grabbing his things and simply walking away never to return, was the strongest. 

It was silly, really, Freddie reminded himself. He would be alright once he was dancing. He always was. Once the lights were on him and the music was pulsing through him. He'd be more than alright. Being in front of an audience, no matter the audience, no matter the setting, still fulfilled him in a way nothing else could. 

It was the private dances which were more of a challenge. Not the dancing itself, nor the eyes of strangers looking their fill, devouring him to their hearts' content. A part of him had a way of enjoying that, even while another part just wanted to curl up and hide away. He’d become numb by now to the initial mental and emotional strain of that duality. It was his alter ego who danced for the clients, not he. And so, once he was in the right mindset, once he was more _Mercury_ than Freddie, which usually happened halfway through his first routine of the night, he was fine. 

No, the worst part was the in-between. Having to talk to the people out there. He could never get used to that and everything in him still balked at it at the start of the night. Pretending to show interest in whoever was in front of him. Pretending to connect with them. The endless small talk. Enticing them, offering himself up for _private consumption_. It wasn't prostitution, he reminded himself over and over, not even close. This was no sleazy, back alley strip joint, after all. It was as classy as exotic dancing could get. No full nudity, strictly no touching.

It was all reasonably civilised, for the most part. 

And yet, there was that underlying, sickly aftertaste of disgust Freddie could never quite shake. 

In the mirror, he watched Siobhan, the new girl, sweep in through the curtain, looking a little wide-eyed and breathless after her first routine of the night. 

"You alright, darling?" He asked when she met his eyes in the mirror. 

"Yeah..." She gave him a slow smile, her features relaxing and eyebrows rising up as she looked him up and down. It was the first time she'd seen him as Mercury. 

"How did it go?" Freddie asked conversationally, reaching for his phone to refresh his social media feeds one last time before he braved the club. 

"Grand," she replied, twisting her hair up and fanning herself, before she went to get a bottle of water from her bag. "God, I'm sweating like a pig though." 

"Mmh." Freddie liked a few Instagram posts and looked up from his phone, nodding at her outfit, which consisted of little more than a tiny, glittery bikini. "And you're in _that_." He kicked his vinyl-clad leg out demonstratively, twirling his ankle. "Look at me!" 

"God!" Siobhan chuckled and took a few large gulps of water, bending down a little to check herself out in the Hollywood mirror as she shook out her hair. "It's a good look though. You're like Dita Von Teese and Marilyn Manson rolled into one." 

Freddie huffed out a laugh, eyes darting back to the mirror. "Thank you, I think." 

"It was a compliment." The girl assured him, smiling at his reflection.

Giving her a pleasant smile in return, Freddie turned his attention to his phone again when a notification popped up. 'Daniel just messaged you,' Grindr informed him. "You better get back out there, darling,” he said absently.

"Yes," Siobhan sighed, put her water away, and turned to go. "Good luck!" 

"Thank you!" Freddie called without looking up. Daniel was a nice name. "Make that money, honey!" 

Freddie opened the message and quirked an eyebrow. Hm. Daniel didn't have much to share in the way of words, but he did have a nice headless torso pic. With his cock out.

 _ **Bend over**_ \- appeared below the picture. 

Freddie rolled his eyes and typed a reply.

_**How romantic  
I'll pass** _

_**Aww** _ \- came the response, and a moment later:  
 _**I have candles** _

Freddie laughed out loud and shook his head, beginning to type a message and then immediately deleting it. This really wasn't the time. He knew he was just stalling. 

Fifteen minutes to go, if that. 

Reaching back inside his makeup bag, Freddie dug out a pocket mirror and opened it. Inside was a rolled up scrap of paper and a little plastic baggie. The latter was very nearly empty. How long had that lasted him, he wondered briefly. Less than it used to, he knew, but didn't allow himself to dwell on. 

Instead he tried to figure out how soon and how much he could afford to buy this coming week, while he reached into the inside pocket of his tote bag to find a plastic card. 

Keeping an eye on the door - not because anyone would have minded what he was doing, but because he didn't want to share - Freddie quickly shook a little bit out onto the pocket mirror and cut it with his H&M store card, arranging the fine powder into a neat, modestly sized line. Just a hint of artificial euphoria. There was probably still enough left for another two lines later.

He licked the edge of the card, picked up the rolled up piece of paper and quickly bent over the table to make short work of the white powder he'd rationed out for himself. 

Coming back up with a sniff, the bitter taste at the back of his throat and the tingling, numb sensation in his nasal cavity immediately reassuring, Freddie rubbed the tip of his nose and took a deep breath.

In the Hollywood mirror, the vision that was Mercury smiled a beguiling smile at him.

Freddie swiped his finger over the pocket mirror and rubbed it along his gums. Licked over them, relished the curious feeling of numbness under his tongue. 

Time to go. 

\- - -

Varieté wasn't officially an LGBTQ+ strip club. A few of those had popped up around London since [the first one had opened ten years ago in 2019](https://www.dazeddigital.com/life-culture/article/45015/1/uk-first-lgbtq-strip-club-transgender-strippers-opening-harpies-metropolis). Harpies, the original, still mostly employed trans dancers. There was another club which had all male dancers and could only be described as London's most popular hen do destination - and central thirst station for the gay community. It was a bit like stepping into a scene from the Magic Mike movies. Freddie had been, and enjoyed, but it wasn't a place where someone with his slim physique and androgynous style would have found employment as a dancer. Varieté, on the other hand, was true to its name. The dancers varied greatly in style and appearance. There were a few regular girls who weren't, strictly speaking, all that unconventional. All of them danced on the pole. However, one was Malaysian and trans (not that anyone would have ever guessed) and one West African. A Polish girl had just left, replaced by Siobhan, who was an adorable Irish red-head. There was also Dom, who did burlesque. And Khalid, a rubenesque Egyptian belly dancer who came in on Saturday and Sunday nights only. He taught belly dancing classes during the week at Battersea sports centre. And there was Teresa, whose hair colour changed monthly and who was decorated in piercings and tattoos from head to toe. 

And lastly, there was Freddie, who was currently swaying his skinny hips over to the bar while he took in the room. 

For a Friday night, the club was still pretty empty. As usual, the clientele was predominantly male, although there was always the odd group of girlfriends and a few couples. Interestingly enough, Freddie found that Mercury could be quite popular with the ladies. Roger attributed it to his hairy chest, not without a hint of envy. Already, his appearance had turned the heads of a few ladies near the bar who were now throwing him curious glances. Freddie tipped his cap to them with a small smile as he came up to lean on the bar. A moment later, his best friend and flatmate stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. The colourful tattoos on his forearms stood out against the white shirt he was wearing, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The button up shirt and the bow tie did little to tone down his equally colourful and charismatic personality, which he always exuded in heaps, Freddie thought. The fact that Roger was almost always here with him was one thing which made it all a bit less unbearable. 

"Ready, Freddie?" the bartender said, flashing him a grin, and Freddie's eyes widened a little. 

"Rog-" 

"Shit, sorry," Roger scrunched up his nose. "What can I get you, Mercury?" 

"The usual, darling." Freddie's fingers danced over the smooth surface of the bar lightly, eyes wandering the room again. He was starting to feel the buzz now. A certain lightness and the influx of nervous energy, his heart pumping just a little faster than it should. 

"Sure thing." Roger took a bottle of Smirnoff off the shelf and went about preparing a vodka tonic. In actual fact, Freddie preferred vodka lemonade, but he'd got it into his head that tonic was healthy. (It also had much fewer calories.) This was, of course, ridiculous. Surely the alcohol cancelled out any health benefits. But it made him feel better about himself, so he was sticking with it. 

His eyes fell on the largest group in the room, of a dozen or so. Mostly men, all in suits and ties. Expensive suits. Bankers, Freddie hoped. Although did it even matter? Siobhan and Imani were currently chatting to them. Given the look of those city workers, Freddie would lose out to the girls, as he essentially always did anyway. He fiddled with the smart-let on his wrist, wondering if enough people would swipe their credit cards over it tonight to keep him afloat. The real money was in tips and private dances, and even on his best nights, Freddie couldn't hope to compete with the female dancers. He was well aware that he was a curiosity at best, a dare at times - 'Get that one, mate! Go on!' - most people didn't come here to see him, he was mostly just part of the avant-garde vibe of the place. It was the story of his life, really.

He wasn't enough.

Not British enough. Not Parsi enough. Not academic enough. Not talented enough. Not man enough. Not fem enough. Too shy. Too loud. Too hairy. Too dainty. Definitely nowhere near straight enough, as far as his parents were concerned. (Not that he cared anymore - or so he told himself.)

Freddie had always felt out of place, and the older he got, the more painfully obvious it became that being “unique” was a load of old shite. Nobody actually wanted unique. The music industry wanted the perfect embodiment of whichever agenda they were pushing that year, to shape as needed, and then call the product talent and uniqueness. It was all a big lie, and if you didn’t fit the cookie cutter shape, well, good fucking luck. Because you were going nowhere fast.

“Earth to Mercury.”

Freddie started, turning back to Roger, who slid his drink over to him, looking immensely pleased with himself. 

“Hilarious.” Freddie retorted flatly, although the corners of his mouth twitched.

“I am, thanks.” Roger waggled his eyebrows. 

When Freddie picked up his drink, Roger produced his own half-empty pint from beneath the bar and clinked glasses with him.

"Cheers."

"Cheers, my dear." Freddie caught the straw between his lips and took a sip, glancing back over his shoulder. "PP hasn't turned up then?"

"Pervy Paul?" Roger stuck his tongue out between his teeth and Freddie tutted and shushed him. No one here needed to know what they had dubbed Freddie's most regular and least favourite customer. 

"No, he's here, I'm afraid." Roger pointed to the group of suits Freddie had just been observing. "And he's brought friends. Sorry, mate." 

"Ugh." Freddie put his glass down with a deflated groan. "Fuck my life."

Sure enough, there was Paul, or rather the back of his head. He was chatting animatedly to an important-looking middle-aged man who didn't appear to be paying him much mind. 

"Must be a company outing or something," Roger shrugged, "Maybe it'll keep him busy." 

"I bloody well hope so," Freddie sighed. Because if it didn't, he'd have that leering bastard virtually breathing down his neck all night. 

"Not a banker, is he?" 

"No." Freddie shook his head, regretting the fact that he knew far more about that obnoxious man than he cared to know. "He's a PA. He works for a travel company or something."

And he fit right in with those smarmy self-important bastards, Freddie thought. It figured. As he contemplated how they all looked alike, down to their stupid, boring haircuts, Freddie's eyes caught on a figure at the edge of the group just briefly. 'Well, except for that one,' he thought absently, taking in the man's bushy hair tied up in a messy bun and his scruffy beard. Now that he was looking, Freddie also noticed that although he was clearly part of the group, he seemed to be leaning away from the others, as though reluctant to be a part of them. Unlike the rest, he looked serious and lost in thought. There was something understated and modest about him. 

"Right," said Roger, and Freddie turned back to him. A few people had come up to be served, and Roger hid his own drink away. “Have a good one, yeah?”

“I shall.” Freddie smiled. “I'll see you later.”

\- - -

Back in the changing room, where Dom was just getting into her intricate costume and Teresa was having a drink of water, Freddie had a couple of minutes to stretch one last time, nurse his drink and put himself into the right headspace as he listened out for the DJ’s announcement. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen!”

Taking a shuddering breath, Freddie slowly walked up the steps to the curtain, tingly with adrenaline and that edge of chemically induced alertness.

“Please welcome to the stage…”

He liked starting with this routine, because it was fast-paced and barely allowed him a proper look into the audience. He could lose himself in it.

“...our unearthly delight…”

Freddie lifted his chin, rolled back his shoulders and placed one foot on the top step.

“...Mercury!”

_Na na na come on!_

The moderately enthusiastic cheering - Freddie could hear Roger giving a loud whoop from the bar - faded into the background, drowned out by the fast beat of Rihanna’s S&M. The bassline reverberated through his body as he strutted out onto the stage to its rhythm. Every tilt of the hips deliberate and charged with a fierce energy, all sensuality and power and sex. A hand on his waist, a turn of the head. With one, energetic move, Freddie grabbed the visor of his cap and pulled it off, tossing it away behind him while he whipped his hair into his face. The audience below him disappeared in a flood of lights as he caught the pole in one hand and swung himself up into a simple carousel spin, soon wrapping himself around the cool metal with a few increasingly more complicated spins. Gripping the pole with his legs, he dropped back and rolled his body back up against it to the music, holding on with one hand. Head seemingly loose on his shoulders even though every movement was carefully controlled. Painted lips carefully pulled over his teeth to spare them the sight of his overbite.

_Feels so good being bad  
There's no way I'm turning back…_

He came back down onto the floor with a pirouette, front and centre, his back against the pole and arms stretching up. The whole of his upper body lengthening and pulling up, before he slid down to his knees and threw himself forward, crawling up to the front of the stage, hips swaying side to side. It was impossible not to see the eyes trained on him from here, but it was possible not to look as he lifted himself back up onto his knees. Bending backwards, Freddie threw his head back and shrugged off the leather jacket, letting it slide to the floor. Gloved hands snaked up and down his upper body in their own time, and lower, hips rhythmically thrusting up into his own touch to the sound of whistles and cheers.

_’Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it  
Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it..._

With a turn and a twist, he was on his stomach, arse in the air, and then on his side, one leg kicking out towards the ceiling. Once he had worked his way up to his feet again, he threw himself back onto the pole, now with more freedom to move. To spin fast and flip himself upside down, feeling his heart race wildly in his chest, everything around him a blur. 

These were the brief moments when it felt like sheer euphoria. Like magic.

When Mercury came to life, and Freddie was soaring.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is _Mercury_ straight from the author's imagination:  
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49972198542/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Yes, that's a nipple piercing, and it's this:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49971979361/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Reasearch for this fic was a lot of fun. I was inspired, among many other things, by [some awesome](1rBoo4U54Wc) [male pole dancers](https://youtu.be/W2dyIvFcxmg) on YouTube. And also [these talented boys](SpqTUhcEmMU), especially [Yannis Marshall](MPubIpRbYdU), because fuck me.
> 
> As you can tell, I am already utterly obsessed with this AU. I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter! At this point I feel like there might be five or fifty chapters to follow, haha. Let me know what you think!


	2. Varieté

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your encouragement! It means the world, I'm so happy some others are excited about this as well!  
> I'm posting this chapter now because I'll have such a busy day tomorrow that there is no way I could get around to updating it, and I have other things planned for Sunday. So... enjoy. Hopefully!
> 
> And thanks to everyone who's participating in the event, I will get around to reading all your fics very soon! I will read every last story, I promise. <3
> 
> In this chapter, Freddie is wearing this outfit:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/49972093921/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Thank you to BisexualRoger for beta reading and for her thoughts!
> 
> Soundtrack: Muse - Feeling Good

\- - -

Of course, some people did come to Varieté to see Freddie. Or rather, they came to see _Mercury_. Just like the other dancers, he too had his regulars, even though they were few. Most of them were actually quite lovely and rather respectful. There was a sweet older gentleman, whose heart condition Freddie frequently worried about when he requested a private dance, and who seemed to delight in telling him all about how he'd like to take him home and furnish him with all of life's luxuries if only he could afford it. 

"My wannabe sugar daddy," Freddie would joke, once back at the flat with Roger. 

"But imagine," Roger would reply, "if he _was_ rich you'd have to suck wrinkly old man dick to get anything out of it!" 

And Freddie would make a show of being disgusted by the very idea, snorting with laughter, while secretly wondering if he would. Given a certain amount of money. Given a certain amount of freedom. 

Probably not, he'd think to himself, as they went on to bemoan their constant lack of funds, how obscenely expensive London had become and whether they wouldn't be much better off moving to Japan to teach English. They were never serious, of course. For better or for worse, they both loved London dearly. Somehow, even after years of failure and rejection, it had a way of dangling the promise of something fantastic, something grand, just out of reach. Roger had joined a new band this summer and was as always none too cautiously optimistic that, this time, it was going to lead somewhere. Freddie was secretly jealous because he hadn't sung in front of an audience in almost two years, and that knowledge hurt, when he let it. But for Roger's sake, he hoped it would work out. 

His other regulars consisted of a couple of married men and a few poor, socially awkward sods who, Freddie imagined, wouldn't know how to start a conversation with a guy even if their life depended on it. If simply showing them some human kindness, flirting a little and pretending to really listen to what they had to say - all while grinding up on them a bit - made their lives marginally happier, then everyone was a winner.

But then, there was also Paul. Good old Pervy Paul. At first, Freddie hadn't minded him much. He had seemed like an intelligent enough bloke, not cripplingly awkward like some of the others, and probably around Freddie's age. He wasn't bad-looking, either. It would have been a lie to say that Freddie had never found him the least bit attractive. But it hadn't taken him very long to realise that Paul was quickly becoming nothing short of obsessed with him. And the things he came out with sometimes were downright creepy. 

"I know you, Mercury," he'd tell him in that lecherous tone when they were alone in a VIP booth, eyes boring into him, and it made Freddie's skin crawl, "I know what you need."

 _My dear, you don't know the first thing about me_ , Freddie would have liked to reply, _You don't even know my name._

"Is that so?" He would ask lightly instead, ignoring the way the other man's hand would occasionally brush over the bulge in his trousers with intent. Tossing off during a private dance was a no-no and would get you escorted from the room in a flash, but Paul never went quite far enough to warrant calling him out on it. 

"You need someone who knows what's best for you," Paul would inform him, smirking, thrusting his hips up against Freddie during a lap dance. The grey area of permissible physical contact. "I could look after you so well. I'd never let you out of my sight." 

Of all the things Freddie had heard in the private rooms, ranging from curious questions such as 'Are you trans?', to complete filth and graphic sexual fantasies involving him, to utterly puzzling, inappropriate requests like 'Can I sniff you?' - it was still always Paul who managed to creep him out the most. Somehow, the fact that Paul never said anything particularly crude or filthy only made it worse. Because the more he came to see Freddie, the more he sounded like he wouold have liked to lock him up in his basement. Once or twice he'd tried to wait for Freddie when he was leaving the club, but luckily, Freddie and Roger almost always left together. The second time, Roger had made a point of holding Freddie's hand and had pecked him on the cheek as they'd walked away. This had turned out to be a true stroke of brilliance. Paul had backed off a bit, after that. He still periodically pestered Freddie for his number, his Insta account or to come have a drink with him - Freddie had long since blocked him on Grindr - and got stroppy when he was denied. But that was the extent of it. He never actually broke any rules, so Freddie put up with him because he spent a good chunk of money every time and tipped very generously on top of that. 

Even so, tonight Freddie was very happy to escape to a private booth with another regular first, where he spent more time chatting than dancing. 

Then he got talking to the group of ladies, who were very giggly and pleasant, showering him with compliments and tips for his first routine. And once one of them had been brave enough to request a private dance, the others followed suit. It was all in good fun. It usually was, with the ladies. And best of all, it gave him an excuse to stay away from the large group Paul was a part of. 

Before long, he was back in the dressing room, changing into his second outfit for the night. A black lace one-piece which consisted of hot pants and a broad strip of lace running up one side of his chest, around his neck, and down the other, leaving his back and most of his chest exposed. Set to Feeling Good by Muse, the routine that went with this outfit was a very different one. It was slow and soft, all long spins, undulations and dragging himself up and down the pole seductively. It ended in a long, pretty suggestive floor combo. 

It was the routine which Freddie kind of wished Roger wouldn't have to see. Even though his third and last routine would have him in nothing but crotchless, strategically torn fishnets and a sequin thong. But that one would be faster, more tongue-in-cheek, and less… well. Less like having to watch him pretend to pleasure himself to music, begging to be fucked. If someone had told him a couple of years ago what he'd be willing to do in front of an audience to afford a certain standard of living, he might have laughed in disbelief.

But such was life.

Downing the rest of his second glass of liquid courage, he discreetly powdered his nose, applied some actual powder to his face and stretched out his feet a bit while he waited for his turn on the stage. The balls of his feet ached from the stilettos, and he'd still have to get back into them after this, as he couldn't very well walk around the club barefoot. But it was a nice respite. 

The music started.

And Freddie was left behind at the curtain as Mercury stepped on stage. For this number, he had to be. 

Mercury derived a filthy, outrageous sort of enjoyment from the looks full of dark desire stripping him bare. Not that it was hard, the lace hid precious little.  
Mercury was sinfully and undeniably turned on by the knowledge that some of these guys were discreetly touching themselves under their tables, watching him.  
Mercury lived in the moment and loved the way his cock twitched under his hand when he made a show of touching himself, all eyes on him. 

Freddie would feel vaguely nauseous at the memory the next morning, sometimes, but only if he thought about it too much. It was like a mild hangover, no more. A remnant of the _good boy_ he'd always been expected to be. 

Mercury met Paul's burning gaze as he spread his legs and wound his body around.

\- - -

This time, there was no escape. The moment he appeared in the room, following his routine, he was spotted. 

"Mercury!" 

Freddie came to a halt, hand on his hip, and turned back over his shoulder with a disingenuous smile. But as he acknowledged Paul with a nod and a little wave, his gaze was drawn to another pair of eyes. The man at the end of the table. The bearded bloke with the messy bun, who didn't seem to fit in. Freddie had noticed him watching, too, when he'd been on stage. But now, he turned away the moment their eyes met, taking a large gulp of his drink instead. Freddie wasn't sure what it was that kept him looking just a little longer, but he caught himself quickly and turned away, too. 

Of course, escaping Paul and his co-workers all night was not going to be an option. Freddie knew that. But there was no way he was going over there just to let Paul sink his claws into him and monopolise him until it was time for his next routine. So instead, Freddie continued to the bar first, coming up beside Dom, who was currently talking to Roger.  
Freddie opened his mouth and then closed it again when he realised that they'd barely acknowledged his arrival, by all appearances too immersed in each other. 

"...would be great, yeah. Just let me know when, I'm easy." Roger was saying.

"So I've heard," Dom replied cheekily. 

The blond barman grinned and finally tore his eyes away from the young woman, raising his eyebrows at Freddie. "Fre-hey you, what's up?" 

"Give me a tray of exciting shots to sell," Freddie demanded. Roger straightened up, gave him a captain's salute, and went to work. 

"Are you braving your not-so-secret admirer and his entourage?" Dom asked with a sympathetic smile, her chin in her silk-gloved hand. 

"Yes." Freddie sighed. "Have you been over there?" 

"Mhm. They do tip very well." 

"They better," Freddie mumbled, glancing back over his shoulder. Sure enough, Paul was staring at him rather insistently. Lovely. 

Once Roger had handed him a tray of Vodka shots with edible gold flakes floating in them, Freddie put on a smile and made his way over to the table. Paul was beaming, and excitedly leaned over to one of his colleagues, evidently announcing Freddie's arrival. Soon, the majority of the table had turned their heads to watch him approach with varying degrees of interest and scrutiny. Luckily, Freddie was reasonably high, a little tipsy and Mercury easily took the reigns again. 

"Gentlemen," he purred, gazing into the round with heavy-lidded eyes, the tray balanced on one hand. "Ladies… Can I interest you in a decadent treat?" 

"Oh, some of us might be interested." One of the men smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "But we'll have the shots first!" 

The whole table burst into laughter and Freddie looked on with a charming smile. The bigwig sitting beside Paul waved him over, telling him to leave the drinks and put it on his tab. As gold-infused shots were handed out and tipped back and Freddie was complimented on his look and performance, some of them swiping their cards on his smart-let, Freddie tried to work his way through the group so as not to linger too close to Paul. 

"Where are you off to?" His relentless admirer pouted, looking as though he was trying very hard not to grab him by the arm. 

"Just saying hello to all your friends." Freddie gave a little shrug and winked. "I'll be right back with you, dear." 

He had no intentions of keeping his word. 

At that moment, one of the group returned to the table, back from a private booth. A little red-faced and grinning, he was greeted with cheers and claps on the shoulder by his colleagues. 

"How was that, mate?" 

"Worth the money?" 

"Every penny!" he informed them, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a serviette. 

"Right!" Someone else exclaimed, looking around. "Where's that girl gone off to?" 

"Hey, Mercury." A prematurely balding man in spectacles leaned forward onto the table, grinning at him. "If I pay for a private dance, will you show me Uranus?" 

Howls of laughter erupted. Freddie smiled tightly, head tilted to the side.

"I'm afraid nothing will get you that far, darling," he replied smoothly, having heard variations of the same pun roughly a hundred times before. "But I'll most certainly show you a good time," he added, smiling enticingly at the man who was starting to look a bit intrigued.

"Show some respect." Paul bristled, much to the amusement of some of his co-workers.

"Oh, come off it, Prenter."

"Yeah, it was only a joke!" 

The man who had made the pun looked a bit uncomfortable now, chuckling awkwardly. "No offence, eh?" 

"None taken," Freddie said, willing Paul to shut the fuck up and not make his job any harder. "But if you'd like to make it up to me…" 

"There she is!" 

Imani had been waved back over to the table, clearly a favourite with some of them. Freddie gave her a nod and a smile, knowing he should be making more of an effort. That she would only encourage anyone who seemed even mildly interested in getting a dance off him, just as he would do for her in return. But it would just end up being Paul, wouldn't it. 

Promising himself to jump back into the conversation in a moment, Freddie turned away instead, facing the quiet end of the table where a few people had left their chairs. Left behind was the serious fellow who had caught Freddie's eye several times tonight. Long legs crossed over each other and hands folded in his lap, he looked as though he was sitting in a waiting room at the doctor's office. Just wishing for the waiting to be over. 

"Are you alright, dear?" There was no point wasting his time on him, Freddie knew that. But perhaps it was the fact that he looked as though he wanted to be here about as much as Freddie did, at that moment, which made him feel a certain affinity for the stranger. 

The man looked up, a little surprised, and gave a rather unconvincing, slow nod as he reached for the tumbler in front of him. Most of the ice had melted into what Freddie guessed was probably Scotch.

"Not your choice of venue?" Freddie ventured, without reproach. He stepped a little closer, fingers trailing over the tabletop. 

The man swirled the liquid in the glass and took a sip before he answered, no longer looking at Freddie but at the others, who were fawning over Imani and turning to watch Safia, the Malaysian girl who had just taken the stage. 

"No," he admitted, just loud enough to be heard over the music. "Is it yours?" 

Freddie blinked, thrown by the question and the implication behind it, and found himself momentarily lost for words. 

"Well…" 

"Sorry." The stranger shook his head with a small frown and looked back up at him. "That was rude of me. Don't mind me, please… You…" He looked Freddie up and down then, albeit briefly. "You're very good at what you do." 

He sounded terribly earnest and serious as he said it. It was so unlike the usual tone of the compliments Freddie received here that all his automatic responses flew out of the window. 

"Do you think so?" he heard himself ask, instead of defaulting to one of his customary thank-yous and a smile. 

"Oh, I'm sorry." The man apologised again and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and Freddie realised he must have misunderstood his words as a subtle invitation to show his appreciation for Freddie's act. "Here, let me give you a tip. Is twenty alright?" 

"You don't have-" Freddie started, eyes wide, and stopped himself just short of finishing that sentence. What the hell was he doing, trying to talk himself out of a ridiculously generous tip? "I mean. Yes, of course it is." Finally finding his Mercury smile again, Freddie selected the amount on his smart-let and presented the man with the inside of his wrist. The small green light flashed as the transaction was completed. 

"Thank you." Freddie pulled his hand back and brushed his hair over his shoulder. "Enjoy your night!" 

The words had slipped out through force of habit and Freddie cringed a little. It was a stupid thing to say, given that this guy clearly wasn't enjoying himself very much at all.

The stranger gave him a wry smile. "Thank you." However, just as Freddie was about to leave him to it, he spoke up again. "Why…" 

Freddie stopped and turned back, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"Your… stage name. Why Mercury? If you don't mind me asking?" 

Again, Mercury responded on auto-pilot before Freddie could think, the question one he'd answered many times before. 

"I'm a Virgo, dear." He leaned back and perched on the edge of the table, giving the man a coquettish eyebrow waggle. "It's my ruling planet." 

The response was designed to be cute, simple and suggestive, playing with the ridiculous notion of innocence in an establishment such as this. It was a tiny fraction of the truth. And it usually worked a charm. 

"Ah." Looking all but disappointed, the man lowered his eyes to his Scotch and took a listless sip, all interest gone. 

Out of nowhere, Freddie felt a jab of indignation at the realisation that this stranger probably thought he was a vapid, silly little thing. But then, why wouldn't he think so? Freddie had shown him nothing that might have made him think otherwise. More importantly still, why did he care what this man he'd likely never see again thought of him? 

"However," Freddie said, before he had quite answered the latter question for himself, "if you ask the Romans, Mercury is the god of financial gain, communication and boundaries." He lifted an eyebrow and made a sweeping motion with his hand, indicating their surroundings. "And what could be more Roman than this decadence and debauchery?" 

The man looked up at him, curiosity reignited in his eyes. "Hmm. If I'm not mistaken he's also the god of good luck and trickery."

Freddie bit back a self-satisfied smile and glanced around the room, lips pursed over his teeth. "He might be that, too." 

"A clever fellow." 

"If you say so." Freddie rolled his head to one side, gazing up at one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. "Mercury also has the largest orbital eccentricity of all the planets in our Solar System." He glanced over at the other man and was satisfied to see him raise his eyebrows, surprised. Perhaps even impressed. "And I can't think of anyone more eccentric than me," he added with a smirk. 

The stranger huffed out a laugh, not the dry, humourless kind, but one of genuine appreciation. It lit up his face remarkably. Freddie couldn't help but grin back, although he closed his mouth quickly when the man's eyes flicked to his teeth. 

"I must admit." The man glanced over at the stage, indicating it with his glass. "You were quite intimidating up there, at first." 

_Not as intimidating as all of you down here, staring at me_ , Freddie thought. 

"Am I still?"

The man shook his head. "No." Then he looked a bit abashed and reconsidered. “A little.” 

The grin returned to Freddie's face. And it didn't escape his attention when the stranger's eyes dipped lower, almost shyly, catching on his lace-covered crotch, before mapping the curve of his hip and travelling back up over his chest. It came as a bit of a surprise, because Freddie had been fairly certain all this time that he wouldn't be what this guy was looking for. In here, or in general. Freddie took in the well-manicured hands, fingers long and elegant, the expensive, bespoke suit. A contrast to the barely contained, curly hair, strands escaping left and right, and the scruff on his face.

Hm. It was hard to tell. 

Freddie's eyes must have given him away, because the man averted his gaze and hid behind his Scotch. 

"Your outfit, it's very… uhm…" He chuckled, waving his hand as words failed him.

"It's fine." Freddie said simply, finding it quite endearing. "You can look all you like." 

A shy smile lingered on the stranger's lips as he shook his head minutely. Freddie had the sudden, inappropriate urge to go and sit on his lap, just to see what he might do. Who had dragged this poor, gentle soul to a place like this? 

"What are you celebrating?" Freddie asked instead, glancing over at the other people at the table. When he turned back, the man's stoney-faced expression had reappeared. 

"Something we shouldn't be."

"Oh my," Freddie folded his arms over his chest. "Your friends here seem to be having a grand old time." 

"Yeah," the man scoffed, and corrected him: " _Colleagues_. And that's because they're a bunch of greedy, soulless bastards."

Alright then. Freddie decided not to pursue that topic further. 

“I’m sorry.” The man apologised, yet again, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. “I’m not very sober.”

 _No one here is_ , Freddie thought.

"Not to worry," he said softly. “May I ask your name, now that you know so much about mine?”

The man met his eyes again, as though he was considering whether to give it or not, for a moment. But then his expression softened. “It’s Brian.”

“Brian.” Freddie repeated, offering a charming smile. "Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He had no idea why he was suddenly conversing like a 19th century aristocrat. Something about Brian’s aquiline features and intelligent eyes commanded respect and made Freddie reluctant to appear shallow and idiotic, by comparison. “If there's anything I can do for you, let me know." 

“Thank you.” Brian nodded and saluted him with his glass, before he took another sip.

For a second or two, Freddie found himself hesitating, almost wishing that perhaps-  
Wondering if he should maybe offer-

He quickly dismissed the thought, and the small twinge of disappointment. It was obvious that Brian wanted to be left alone. 

About to push himself up from the table, Freddie turned and gasped audibly, taken off-guard when he came face to face with Paul’s dark, intense gaze.

“Hello there.” The Irishman purred, placing a hand on either side of him at the edge of the table. Not touching him. But effectively trapping him where he was perching on the table edge. “What do you think you’re doing? Playing hard to get?”

Freddie lifted his chin a little higher, pulling his top lip over his teeth, and tried to appear relaxed and nonchalant. “Have I been neglecting you? I’m awfully sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Paul smiled a crooked smile, slowly looking him up and down as he licked his lips. “You can make it all better. How about you and I find somewhere a little more private?”

Returning an insincere smile, Freddie glanced in the direction of the bar. “I’ll have to check which booth is free.” When he made a small move to push himself off the table again, Paul still didn’t budge, leaving him no choice but to stay put or push himself up against him to squeeze out of his confinement. Freddie wasn’t keen on either. If Paul wanted him that close he was going to have to pay first. Freddie arched an eyebrow, his smile faltering. “Do you mind, dear?”

Using a stern tone of voice was usually enough to keep people in check, but there was something a little erratic and jittery about the man in front of him, Freddie noticed. Paul's pupils were very large under his heavy eyelids. 

“Not so fast,” he slurred. “How do I know you’re not gonna run away from me again?” 

Freddie pressed his lips together tightly. Well, this was just fantastic. Out with the bosses for a fancy company do? Fuck, they were probably not only drunk but coked out of their heads, the lot of them.

“Let me go,” he said as sweetly, yet insistently, as he could. “I’ll be right back, dear, I promise.”

“Prenter.” Brian spoke up when the man cornering Freddie didn’t move immediately. “I think he’d like to get past.”

Paul jerked his head around in Brian’s direction as though he’d heard an annoying mosquito buzz, fixing him with a glare. “Stay out of it, why don’t you?”

“It’s alright.” Freddie interjected, taking advantage of the fact that Paul had drawn himself up to his full height and was no longer leaning over him. He quickly stepped away and out of reach. “I’ll go see about that VIP booth, shall I?”

“How much are they?” Brian asked, quite casually, swirling his drink. 

Freddie blinked and turned to him in surprise. "Er… what?"

“The VIP rooms.” 

"That's none of your bloody business, _May_." Paul hissed, before Freddie could reply. 

Brian's eyes twinkled. He looked a mixture between confrontational and faintly amused. 

"Actually, I think you’ll find that it is.” He met Paul’s glare almost innocently and raised his eyebrows. “See, I was just about to get a private dance or two before you… interrupted.”

“You?” Paul spat, narrowing his eyes. “ _You_?”

Freddie looked back and forth between them, not sure whether he should interfere before a fight broke out or just watch this unfold. Clearly, it wasn’t about him at all. The animosity between the two was palpable. 

“First come, first served.” Brian said flatly, and Freddie bit his tongue to keep his face neutral. Oh lordy. 

Paul huffed, lips twisting into a sneer. “You’ve been sat there with that puss on your face all night, judging everyone around you, and _now_ you’re game? Piss off! You can’t _do_ that.”

“Can’t I?” Brian put down his glass and slowly rose from his chair. While he was quite tall, he was also somewhat gangly and not particularly intimidating. But when he spoke, it was with an edge of aggressive authority Freddie had not quite expected out of him. “As I was saying, you’re the one who interrupted _us_ , and now you’re being really rather rude about it. Unless you’re prepared to pay for his time for the rest of the night, I suggest you wait your turn.” Brian turned to Freddie, a picture of politeness. “So, um… Would you run me through the pricing real quick, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, darling.” Freddie could barely hold back a grin as he replied. “It’s £15 per dance. That's roughly three to five minutes.” 

Brian nodded, appearing to think it over. “Right, yes. And, hmm, I think I heard one of your lovely colleagues say that there’s a... champagne room? What’s that all about?”

Paul snorted, hands on his hips, but refrained from comment. 

"The champagne room," Freddie said slowly, "is a private room you can book for an hour with… with a dancer." 

In just over a year of dancing, he'd only ever been asked to the champagne room a handful of times. Twice by Paul. So sure was he that Brian would never shell out for that, no matter how much he wanted to annoy Paul, that he had neglected to so much as name the price. However, Brian just continued to look at him. Eyebrows raised expectantly. 

"It's-" Freddie finally added, "It's £250, including the champagne."

Brian nodded and looked over at his work colleagues, then checked his smart watch. 

"Can I book it for a couple of hours?" he asked, turning back to Freddie, whose mouth dropped open. 

"I… yes, I think so." He chortled in sheer disbelief, unable to resist a sideways glance at Paul.

"Excellent," said Brian. "Lead the way."

"You're gonna pay for this," Paul gound out as Brian walked past.

"Yes, I plan to." The tall man replied with a cheerful nod, intentionally misunderstanding. 

Freddie had to look away, unable to hide his amusement. There was a vein on Prenter's neck which looked as though it was ready to pop.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, my main concern with this is doing Brian justice because I've not written Frian much. Hope I'm doing alright! Let me know what you think. :)


	3. Enigma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things about this new project are a real challenge.
> 
> 1) Translating Freddie's character, who was heavily inspired by the gay culture of his time, to a modern version heavily inspired by modern gay culture. I'm second-guessing myself every turn, but I'm having fun with it. 
> 
> 2) Writing all of it from only one character's POV. I usually do split POV, and this is really hard! Yes, I'm aware that it's completely unclear what's going on with Brian. But it's completely unclear to Freddie, too, so... we'll learn more, down the line. 😅
> 
> However, I am absolutely loving it and I'm pleased that it's had an enthusiastic reception! I hope you all continue to enjoy this. 💕
> 
> Thank you to BisexualRoger for beta reading. ❤️
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> Beyoncé - Single Ladies  
> Lady Gaga - Enigma  
> Jimi Hendrix - Purple Haze

\- - - 

“So…” Brian lowered himself down at the edge of the sofa and crossed one leg over the other, scratching at the scruff on his cheek as he gazed up at the dimmed pendant lights. They hung from the high ceiling, over the round mirror table in the centre of the room. “What usually happens here?”

His eyes wandered over to Freddie and followed him attentively, perhaps a little nervously, as he came up beside him. 

“Well...” Freddie placed the ice bucket and champagne on the small side table beside the sofa, then carefully put the glasses down, too. “Whatever you like, darling, as long as you follow the rules.”

Brian shifted his elbow onto the armrest and stretched his fingers out towards the glass of champagne Freddie was currently pouring.

“No touching, no verbal abuse.” Freddie said, quite conversationally, and tilted his head to the side, casting him a curious little glance as he proceeded to pour his own glass. Brian watched it fill up, still as much of an enigma to Freddie as he had been all night. 

“And you’re allowed to drink?” he asked. 

“I am.” Lifting his glass with a small smile, Freddie crossed in front of him and sat down beside him on the sofa, at a little distance, turning to face him, legs carefully arranged. 

In the last ten minutes, he had gone from sheer disbelief, to thanking his lucky stars, to wariness, when it had occurred to him that even though Brian had effectively saved him from Paul’s possessive clutches, Freddie did not know the first thing about the man he was now expected to entertain for two hours. For all he knew, Brian might turn out to be worse than Paul, although Freddie wasn’t sure how that would be possible. But he had learned to expect anything and everything, and was very much on his guard behind his false smile and deliberately sensual demeanour.

“In fact,” he told Brian, rolling the stem of his glass between his fingers and watching the bubbles in his glass ascend, “most clients would probably insist that I have a drink with them.”

“Would they.” Brian contemplated this, looking around the room. “In hopes that you’ll get drunk enough to bend the rules a little?”

“Perhaps.” Freddie shrugged, watching him with a degree of suspicion. _Is that what you’d like, Mr White Knight? Not so prim and proper behind closed doors?_ “Of course, I couldn’t possibly do that, even if I wanted to.” He told the other man, his flirty smile deliberately insinuating that he _might_ want to - all part of the act - even as he pointedly looked towards the camera mounted on the ceiling. “I’d get fired if I did.”

“That’s good,” said Brian, following his gaze. Freddie gave him a questioning, mildly amused glance. “I mean-” Brian looked a little flustered. “Not- not that you’d get fired. But that it’s… safe. You know.”

“Right.” Freddie’s smile softened, no longer so forced. It wasn’t very often that anyone - other than Roger - worried about his safety. Maybe Brian really was a decent human being, hard to believe as it was. “Yes, that is good.” He raised his glass. “Cheers, darling.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and sipped their sparkling drinks. Brian grimaced.

“I shouldn't be drinking this. Champagne on top of Scotch.”

“Yeesh,” said Freddie.

“It won't mix well,” said Brian, and took a larger sip regardless.

Freddie eyed him for a moment, itching to ask a whole host of questions he probably shouldn't. About Paul, about what it was exactly that had brought him here tonight. Why he looked half-determined to drink himself into a stupor. But it was always safer to let the client determine the direction of the conversation. 

“How about we put on some music?” Freddie pulled himself back up onto his feet and crossed over to the smooth control panel mounted on the wall. The screen lit up under his touch. “What do you fancy?”

There was a moment’s silence. Freddie logged into his account with a touch of his fingertip, then flicked his fingers up, absently scrolling through his playlists and setting the volume level.

“Genre or artist?” Brian asked.

“Either, darling.” Freddie took another sip of champagne and glanced back over his shoulder. “I can choose, if you’d like...”

“Led Zeppelin.” 

“Ooh, yes please,” Freddie cooed appreciatively. “A man after my own heart.”

“Really?” 

Freddie put on You Shook Me, a mellow, blues-y number, and enabled smart shuffle, pivoting around to face Brian in one smooth move. “Why? Does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know.” Brian watched him sway his way back to the sofa, shimmying his shoulders a little to the music. “I feel like you might’ve said that no matter what I suggested.”

Draping himself back down onto the sofa, Freddie chuckled. “Funnily enough, I’m not actually that much of a liar.”

“And yet,” Brian tilted his glass in Freddie’s direction. “ _That_ could be a lie, too.”

Placing his elbow up on the backrest, Freddie sighed and propped his head up on his hand. “Try me.”

“Alright.” Brian uncrossed his legs, and slouched back against the sofa, relaxing into the situation a little. “Favourite Led Zeppelin album.”

“The fourth.”

“Why?”

“Black Dog, Battle of Evermore, Stairway to Heaven…” Freddie waved his hand. “I mean, _really_!”

“I wasn’t disagreeing.” Brian chuckled. “Alright, well. I suppose I believe you.” He glanced over at Freddie, narrowing his eyes a little. “Who’s your favourite band then? Or, you know, artist?”

Freddie raised his eyebrows, swallowing a mouthful of champagne. “Of all time?”

“Yes.”

Freddie huffed out a breath, thinking it over, then shook his head. “Impossible. I can’t answer that, there are too many!"

Very quickly, the conversation turned to Classic Rock, surprisingly a shared interest. Freddie found out that Brian played electric guitar and had, in fact, built his own as a teenager. In turn, Brian seemed amazed to learn that Freddie sang - or had done, once.

"Why'd you stop?" he asked, as though it was a decision Freddie had made consciously. As though it was a decision he had made at all. 

'I didn't…' Freddie wanted to say.

"Oh, you know. It wasn't going anywhere," he told the other man instead, with a little, dismissive flourish of his hand. "Anyway! I've never understood how anyone can have just one favourite artist. One favourite style of music. Isn't that terribly limiting? Like having _one_ favourite sex position? Surely it depends on the sort of mood you're in!" 

Brian laughed out loud, very nearly spilling his champagne. "Hah! Well… I suppose, that's- that's one way of looking at it." 

Freddie shot him a cheeky grin. "I mean, I might be in the mood for La bohème one morning and then Jay-Z that same afternoon."

The other man was grinning back at him. "You like opera?" 

Now there was something Freddie had never told any of his clients, he realised, but then again it wasn't exactly personal, was it? 

He pursed his lips over his teeth with a shrug. "I have a very eclectic taste. And we've barely covered the classics as far as pop music is concerned. What about the eighties, the nineties and so on? Depeche Mode… Muse…” Freddie took a sip of champagne and exclaimed: “Madonna!”

“Oh, good," Brian laughed, "I was worried for a moment there you might forget about _Madonna_.”

“Don’t mock me, darling.” Freddie flicked his wrist back, playfully scandalised. “I’d have to hand in my gay badge if I forgot about Madonna.”

“Is that right?” Brian grinned, much to Freddie’s disappointment not giving himself away easily. Then his gaze turned a little playful as he added: “But what about Beyoncé?”

“Bitch-” Freddie exclaimed, tongue loosened by the alcohol he had slowly but steadily consumed over the course of the night. He clapped a hand over his mouth, snorting with laughter at himself. “Excuse my French. Guilty as charged. How could I forget about Beyoncé?” He sighed dramatically. “Well, that’s that, I suppose. I’m straight now. I better call my parents, they’ll be delighted- Are you alright, darling?”

Brian was coughing through laughter, having inhaled his champagne. “Now-” he chortled, holding up a finger, “sorry, but- I was going to say- and I feel this is, in fact, relevant to your, er, profession-" Freddie raised his eyebrows and Brian cleared his throat, looking a little mischievous. "The _real_ question here is... Do you, or do you not, know the Single Ladies dance?”

Freddie stared at him for a long moment and then swung out his arm, firmly placing his glass down on the side table at his end of the sofa without sparing a look for it. “Alissa,” he called into the room, addressing the AI of the stereo system. “Play Beyoncé, Single Ladies.”

\- - - 

Fine. So perhaps perfectly choreographed routines had never been Freddie's forté. It was why he had never got on with ballet very well - that and the fact that his parents had flat out refused to take him to classes until he was a teenager, stubborn, persistent and angry enough to plead his case more effectively. But by then, Freddie felt, it had been too late already. Realising he'd never excel at it, he'd dropped it - much to his father's relief - after less than a year. 

But while he wasn't a trained dancer, Freddie could certainly move, and when he moved to music, his body took over. Improvising a dance routine came easily to him, and he fancied himself quite good at it. The secret was to commit to it, make every move look as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Unsurprisingly, a modest (by his standards) amount of intoxication aided this greatly. 

At first, Brian had looked on the verge of uncomfortable laughter. But twenty seconds in, when Freddie smoothly dipped down and came back up with a body roll, the other man's eyebrows rose up and his grin faltered. 

Fine. Maybe this really was nowhere near the choreography to Single Ladies. But Freddie was actually enjoying himself. Before long, he had swung himself up on the table - it felt better to have something resembling a stage, and the mirrored table was designed for the purpose after all. When he threw a sultry glance in Brian's direction next - on his knees, back arched - the smile had dropped off the other man's face entirely. Instead, he was watching him with rapt, if somewhat flustered, fascination, one hand over his mouth. Freddie couldn't help but smirk. This was fun. Brian's gaze was far from the usual lustful leers, instead filled with something like genuine wonder, while the song was much more like something Freddie might put on at home and dance to in front of the mirror before a night out. It was a laugh, really. 

He remembered the signature move the next time the chorus came around, pointing to his ring finger with a cheeky double nod. Brian lowered his hand and chuckled with a shake of his head. Freddie winked, coming up on his feet on the table, and swung his head around with a grin, just feeling the rhythm and having fun with it for the remainder of the song.

The AI had queued up a slow R&B number by Destiny's Child next.

“Wow," came the verdict. 

Chest heaving, hands on his hips, Freddie turned to look at Brian, whose face was so open and bright when he smiled that it made Freddie feel warm inside.

“That was impressive,” Brian added. “Really.”

An actual giggle escaped Freddie and he pulled his lips over his teeth, lowering himself into a crouch and then swinging his legs down over the edge of the table, lightly touching the stilettos to the floor. 

“Thank you.” When he glanced down at the table surface, fresh sweat glistened beneath the makeup on his face. He couldn't feel the exhaustion that should have come with it. His heart was like a spinning top, too fast to stop, the urge to keep moving strong. All night, all energy. He loved this high. It made him feel limitless. “It’s what you paid for.”

"Yeah…"

God, just thinking about the amount of money Brian had so casually spent tonight made Freddie feel a little strange. All the more so when it was obvious that he had done so mostly to spite Paul. Because it didn’t seem as though he actually… wanted… 

Although he had been _looking_.

Freddie glanced up.

Brian had slipped back into his thoughts and had lowered his eyes to his glass, brows drawn together a little. 

Freddie felt oddly conflicted. Sure, every once in a while some of his regulars came in essentially just to have a chat, which was ridiculous, because they could’ve gone to see a therapist for less, Freddie figured. But this wasn’t quite like that. 

There wasn’t anything Brian seemed to want or expect from him. Freddie had the distinct feeling that he would’ve been perfectly happy to just sit on the sofa listening to music for two hours. And Freddie should have been overjoyed. Absolutely ecstatic. ‘Easy money’ didn’t even begin to cover it. This had to be one of the luckiest nights of his life. He could probably just pass the time making a bit of small talk, relaxing on the couch.

And so, he couldn’t quite figure out what it was that made him do what he did next. Whether it was some sort of misplaced need for validation, a sense of guilt over a ‘handout’ he didn’t deserve, or simply the undeniable fact that Brian had peaked his curiosity. 

Perhaps it was all three. 

“Alissa.” Freddie rose to his feet, which barely even hurt anymore - although they would tomorrow, he knew. “Play Lady Gaga, Enigma.”

Brian raised his head, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion as Freddie approached him.

_Open-minded, I'm so blinded  
Mystery man, woman phantom…_

“And now?” Brian asked uncertainly, pulling himself up a little and leaning back into the sofa when Freddie stopped so close to him that they were toe to toe.

_Is what I am seeing real, or is it just a sign?_

“This... is also what you paid for.” Freddie replied in a breathy whisper, and widened his stance, placing one leg on either side of Brian’s, before he bent his knees and slid onto the sofa, positioning himself over the other man's lap.

“I thought there was no touching.” Brian sounded mildly panicked, staring at him as he sat stiffly, clutching his champagne.

_We could be lovers, even just tonight  
We could be anything you want…_

“Yes.” Freddie tilted his head to the side, moving his hips and upper body just slightly in time with the music. “ _You_ can't touch.” A smirk ghosted over his lips. “I can. It’s called a lap dance?”

“Oh.” Brian swallowed, his gaze briefly dipping down to where Freddie was very much rubbing up against his crotch. Although he was hovering more than sitting, the touch only light. “You… you really don’t have to.”

“I know.” Freddie raked his teeth over his lip, head lolling from shoulder to shoulder as he rolled his body halftime to the rhythm. "Do you want me to stop?" 

"Uh…" 

Freddie slid his hands up over his own thighs, his body, up behind his neck to unfasten the lace strap running up one side of his chest and down the other. The straps fell away and Brian's eyes were drawn to the piercing in Freddie's right nipple, a silver barbell with two delicate chains hanging from it, creating a half-moon shape. 

"I…" 

There was an incredible and undeniably arousing rush of power that came with the knowledge that he was leaving someone speechless - breathless - whether Freddie was attracted to them or not. Especially when he felt reasonably safe with a client, free to revel in the thrill of being so desired. Sex God Mercury. Pure temptation. It was especially exciting when he'd evidently won over someone as innocently reluctant as Brian, making him forget about whatever it was that had him so occupied in his mind. 

It felt like victory. Sweet validation. 

So what if he was nearing the end of his twenties having achieved none of the things he had dreamed of, _was_ still foolishly dreaming of. So what if his life was going nowhere, so what if casual hook-ups were so easy to come by and someone to hold him at night so hard. So what. 

A perfect stranger was entranced by him, overwhelmed by him, in awe of him. In this moment, he was wanted and adored.

Rolling his hips against the other man, Freddie brought his hands up to Brian's shoulders, fingers splaying out, fingertips brushing the back of his neck above the collar of his shirt. Brian exhaled a sharp breath. 

There was an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes fixed on the dip of Freddie's clavicle. 

_I'll, I'll be your enigma…_

"Alissa! Pause playback." 

The sudden dead silence was like a sobering slap in the face. Freddie instinctively pulled his hands back as if he'd touched a hot plate. Oh shit, what?  
Fuck.

_Seriously?_

Brian met his eyes, a sheepish, almost pleading look on his face, and Freddie quickly climbed off his lap and dropped down onto the couch beside him, cheeks burning. 

"I'm sorry." Brian murmured apologetically. 

"You could've just told me to stop." Freddie heard himself say, his voice on edge. Embarrassment constricted his chest. _Fuckfuckfuck._ How could he have got it so wrong?

"I'm sorry," Brian repeated, looking straight ahead. "It's not- you're very-" He paused, exhaling a breath. " _Very_ -" 

Freddie gave a nervous chuckle, desperately trying to laugh it off. "What are you, some fucking _saint_?" 

He immediately hated himself for the way that had come out. _God, you slag. Can't imagine anyone not being up for it?_

"No." Brian uttered, his jaw tense. "I'm definitely not that." 

The genuine misery in the man's voice pulled Freddie back from the brink of paralysing self-disgust, and he looked up at him instead, taking in the anguished expression on his face. Brian brought the champagne glass up to his lips and downed what remained in it. "I'm sorry." He shook his head with a mirthless laugh. "I shouldn't have done this," he gestured into the room. "Any of this, it was stupid. A stupid idea. I just…" 

"No, no. It's alright. Really." Freddie assured him quickly, glancing up towards the camera. Losing a huge chunk of money was more devastating than a bruised ego. 

"It's not." Brian sighed. "I just wanted to get away from them… just wanted to get away." 

Fucking Christ on a stick. He sounded really upset and Freddie had no idea what to do. 

"Hey," he tried softly, fighting the urge to put a hand on Brian's shoulder while he grasped at something to say. "Your stupid idea just paid half of my rent." 

With a quiet snort, Brian looked over at him, a weak smile on his lips. Freddie raised his eyebrows. 

"It’s true.” 

Brian nodded and took a deep breath. “Good. I should… I should go, you can keep the money-”

“No,” Freddie cut in, not at all keen to get back to the club downstairs, or explain himself to anyone. “You don’t have to go. Stay.”

The curly-haired man gave him an uncertain look.

"You’re clearly in no rush to get back down there, and frankly, neither am I." Freddie told him with a cautious smile. "We can just… just talk."

The room fell into silence again. _Or not_ , Freddie thought, fiddling with his smart-let before he remembered his outfit and self-consciously fastened the lace strap back around his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brian pour himself a bit more champagne. Freddie reached for his own glass, taking that opportunity to scoot closer to his end of the couch, and took a big gulp. Becoming aware that Brian had turned to look at him again, he met his eyes. Neither of them said anything, and when awkwardness crept in they both looked away. 

Mercury was out of reach. And Freddie didn't know what to say. 

"I'm rarely this tongue-tied," he informed Brian with a breathy chuckle. "You've thrown me for a loop, dear."

"I'm sorry." 

Freddie shrugged and took another sip of champagne, trying to think of something inconsequential to ask, like where it was Brian worked or what his plans were for the summer. But Brian beat him to it. 

"Will you have to carry on downstairs?" he asked. "After this?"

"Well." Freddie sucked on his teeth, thinking it over. "The club closes at four and I've paid the house fee, so…" 

"The house fee?" 

"Yeah. Could you pass the champagne, dear?" 

"Of course."

"We- that is, the dancers, we have to pay a house fee for each night we want to work." Freddie explained, accepting the bottle and topping up his glass as he spoke. "It's a hundred quid on the weekend, less during the week." 

"Are you serious?" Brian sounded mildly outraged, which was a bit touching, Freddie had to admit. "But that's ridiculous." 

"Always been that way." The raven-haired man waved a hand. "Long-standing strip club tradition." 

"There should be a union. Isn't there a union?" 

"There is," Freddie sighed, exasperated with the matter. It was just one of those things the dancers put up with. "I think there is, anyway. I'm sorry, I'm not clever enough to be politically-minded." 

Brian drew a breath, as though he wanted to say something, but left it, opting for another sip of champagne instead. 

"Look, let's play a game, shall we?" Freddie suggested, second-guessing himself even as he spoke. But what he had in mind didn't seem like the worst idea. He moved to pull his feet up onto the sofa only to hesitate, frowning down at his shoes. "Wait, I'm sorry, dear. Do you mind terribly if I take these off?" 

"God, no, of course not. Please." Brian gave him a small smile. "You must be in agony."

"It's not so bad." The grimace Freddie pulled as he took the heels of, flexing his toes, directly contradicted his words and Brian laughed. It was a warm, pleasant sound. 

"So, the game." Freddie raised an eyebrow as he tucked his feet under himself comfortably, pulling his lip over his teeth. "It's just something to pass the time, if you like…" 

Brian regarded him cautiously. "What did you have in mind?" 

"Well. It's simple, really. We take turns asking each other questions. You can ask anything, _but_ -" Freddie looked down, toying with the hem of his lace shorts. "Every answer must consist of no more than three words." 

The dubious frown on Brian's face cleared up a little, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. "Can the answer be less than three words?" 

"Yes."

"Does it have to be a sentence or just any three words?" 

"Any words, three or less." 

"Okay. Yeah, why not." Brian nodded and Freddie smiled, relieved that this was back on some sort of track now. Glancing at Freddie's bare feet, Brian put his glass away and went to shrug off his suit jacket. "Who starts?" 

"Heads or tails?" asked Freddie. 

"Heads."

"Alissa, toss a coin. And play Lazy Sunday Afternoon playlist."

"Tails." The AI informed them, before the first chords of Like Real People Do by Hozier came on. It was the first time Freddie had ever put on one of his personal playlists at work, although he didn't stop to think about it in the moment. 

"Alissa, lower volume," he added absently, watching Brian slide down low in his seat, resting his head on top of the backrest and gazing up at the ceiling. The man had an undeniably beautiful profile. All straight, strong lines and angles. Although it was softened and perfectly contrasted by the tight curls of hair which refused to be contained in the bun. "So… what do you do? You and those colleagues of yours?" 

Brian took a deep breath and folded his hands over his stomach, chewing his lip for a moment. 

"Space travel," he said slowly. "Future." 

Freddie's eyebrows rose up. "Goodness." 

"Yes. My turn." 

"Go ahead, dear." 

"Do you like working here?" 

"We're going for the hard-hitting questions, I see." Freddie tugged at a strand of his hair, a smile on his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes as Brian glanced over at him. "Yes," he replied, before Brian could start apologising again, and hid behind his glass as he brought it up to his lips, "and no."

"Hm."

"Are you from London?" 

"Born and bred." Brian confirmed. "Are _you_ from London?" 

"In spirit." Freddie told him, still smirking. 

Brian narrowed his eyes at him a little. "Where were you born?" 

"Zanzibar."

"Really? Wow." 

"Yes. And that was two questions." 

Brian rubbed a hand over his face with a soft chuckle. "Alright, well, you get two."

"Favourite hobby?" Freddie asked, finding his glass nearly empty as he went to take another sip. 

"Guitar." Without looking, Brian passed him the bottle. 

"Oh, of course. Are you actually any good?" 

"Yes." Came the confident response. 

Freddie laughed, his gaze trailing over Brian's long fingers, imagining them expertly plucking at the strings of a guitar. "Very modest, I see."

Brian smiled. "Do you play any instruments?"

"Mmh," Freddie hummed. "Piano, a little. What's your favourite sport?" 

Brian snorted with laughter. "Rubbish at sports!"

And so the minutes flew by as they exchanged small tidbits of information, little glimpses into each other's lives, like puzzle pieces. 

Freddie couldn't help but collect those scraps in his mind, categorising the ones which stood out to him. Some of it was hard to place, because the impression they gave seemed contradictory.  
Humanitarian, musician.  
Business, scientist.

They got derailed eventually over a discussion of places in the world Freddie would have liked to visit, if he'd had the means. Many of them were places Brian _had_ visited, although he claimed never to have seen much of them as it had been for work.  
It turned out he was off to New York on business this Sunday, something he sounded particularly glum about. And Freddie couldn't help but feel a stab of bitter envy, then. Who could possibly frown at a week in New York, paid for, even if it was for work? The cheek of it. 

"And what is so bloody awful about your fancy job, pray tell?" he finally blurted out, having slipped into a familiarity he never usually allowed himself at work between one too many glasses of champagne.

Brian turned to him, holding his gaze for a long moment before he replied. 

"Guilt," he said slowly, brows knotted in a deep frown. The two words that followed were barely more than a whisper. "Too late."

At first, Freddie's inebriated mind couldn't make sense of what the other man had said, having already quite forgotten about the game. It took him a moment to realise. Three words, of course.

"Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?" he drawled, and slowly let himself slide down onto the armrest, swinging his legs up onto the back of the sofa. "I'm sure whatever you're fretting about can't possibly be all that bad, not with everything else that's going on in the world, anyway… and!" Freddie wisely lifted his index finger. "It's _never_ too late! You never know what the future holds. Isn't that what they say?" 

Brian snorted quietly. "And who's _they_?" 

"Darling, I've not a clue." Freddie draped a hand over his forehead and closed his eyes. "But I bloody well hope they're right, because if they're not we're all royally fucked."

It made the other man laugh, if nothing else. Freddie's buzz had worn off and his body felt heavy, lying on the couch, even while his mind still raced. _Never too late - one day - singing, writing - one day - loving, living who he was meant to be - one day - one day - take a chance take a chance take a take a chancechance-_

Take A Chance On Me by ABBA was playing, Freddie suddenly realised. His playlist must have finished a while ago. He made a face. "How the everloving fuck did we end up with ABBA?" 

Brian chortled. "Not a clue." 

"Alissa," Freddie sighed, "play… Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix." 

Brian hummed approvingly as the music changed. 

"Oh dear God, you know, when I first heard this I used to think he says-" Freddie started, breaking into a grin.

"Excuse me while I kiss this guy?" Brian cut in.

"Yes!" Freddie laughed, covering his face with one hand.

"Me too," said Brian, and Freddie cracked an eye open. Oh? "It's one of the most common misheard lyrics. There's a list somewhere online…" 

Oh. 

"It's a fantastic song."

"Really is." 

They listened to it in silence for some time. 

"Brian." Freddie bit his lip, his eyes still closed. 

"Mmh."

"Why do you think, soci- socioculturally speaking," his tongue clumsily stumbled over the word. Quite frankly, he wasn't even entirely sure he was using it appropriately. "Why does it still feel so rude to ask someone if they're gay? Because I feel like… I really feel like, nowadays, that's something… that… shouldn't…" Freddie trailed off into a few mumbled words and shut up, pressing his lips together and trying to keep his face neutral. Good grief, he was fucking drunk. Brilliant. _Well done, Freddie._

It felt like an eternity passed before Brian spoke up, but at least he sounded amused rather than offended. "Are you asking me if I'm gay?" 

"No?" Freddie murmured against the back of his hand, peering at the other man through his lashes and hiding his grin. Badly. 

Brian wasn't looking at him, but he was smirking a little. 

"I'm not gay." He finally said, and to his utter horror, Freddie felt a notable pang of disappointment. Oh, for fucking fuck's sake. It had to be the alcohol. Brian wasn't even his type at all. "But I'm not, hmm… I'm not sure exactly _where_ I am on the sexuality spectrum, if I'm perfectly honest. I've not had much of a chance to find out." 

"Oh." 

Then again, who cared about types? Types were bullshit, why limit oneself so? 

_No_ , Freddie gave himself a mental slap, teeth digging into his lower lip, _stop it, stop this nonsense_. Not only was Brian a client, even though an unusual one, he was also ridiculously wealthy and was most likely spoilt for choice. Someone like Brian didn't date people like Freddie. And Freddie knew what he was doing, he knew it all too well and hated himself for it. The moment a half-decent bloke showed him the slightest bit of human kindness-

"You know, I have to admit," Brian interrupted his train of thought, "this isn't how I expected to spend the night. I had very… very different plans."

"Did I ruin your plans, dear?" Freddie stretched and folded his arms behind his head. 

Brian sat up, a thoughtful, serious expression on his face. "Yes." He nodded, and looked over at Freddie, an emotion behind his eyes which Freddie couldn't quite read. "You did. Thank you." 

"You're ever so welcome, I'm excellent at ruining plans." Freddie shrugged, smiling, and then swung himself up to sitting as well. Oh shit. His head was swimming something awful. "Speaking of… altered plans." He blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the room from spinning. "Fuck the house fee. I'm going home early." 

"I'd be happy to cover-" Brian started. 

"No, fuck off, don't you dare." Freddie replied with the unforgiving, uninhibited directness of someone who had drunk three quarters of a bottle of champagne in the last two hours. "I feel bad enough as it is." 

"Why?" 

"Because!" Freddie threw his arms out, still firmly staring at one spot on the floor in hopes of keeping the nausea at bay. "You've spent all this money…" 

"Worth it." Brian murmured. 

"...just to hang out?" Freddie raised his eyebrows. 

"It's been very entertaining." Brian said earnestly. "Really." He frowned. "Is our time up?" 

"I don't think so… Alissa!" Freddie called, looking up at the ceiling in search of the disembodied computer voice. "What's the time, please?" 

"It is twenty-one minutes past one AM." The AI informed him, fading the music to low volume for a moment. 

"Ten minutes," Freddie concluded. "Do you think your work colleagues are still downstairs?" 

"I fucking hope not." Brian muttered. "So they probably are." 

"Yeah," Freddie clicked his tongue. "I can't imagine Paul will be too pleased when he realises I'm going home for the night." 

"Fuck him." Brian said firmly, and Freddie burst out laughing, but then nodded. 

"You know what? Yes. Fuck him."

\- - - 

Going home wasn't as simple a matter as walking out of the door. Freddie went to see Anthony, the manager, first, all while trying to act more sober than he was. Fortunately, Ant wasn't a bad guy and simply congratulated Freddie on his extraordinary good fortune tonight. Next was a trip to the loo and to the dressing room, to exchange lace for denim and cotton, and pack up all his things. His large tote bag over one shoulder, Freddie lastly headed to the bar to tell Roger he was leaving early. Through a stroke of incredible luck, Paul was nowhere to be seen - perhaps he _had_ buggered off? Freddie thought hopefully - but Brian had dutifully returned to the table where some of his colleagues were still seated. He was standing up, however, and looked as though he was saying goodbye. It suddenly struck Freddie that after they had descended the staircase, snickering and trying not to fall, Freddie moaning about his shoes, and parted ways almost as though it was understood that this wasn't goodbye. 

But it was. That was it. They were unlikely to ever see each other again, after Freddie walked out of the door.

And that was-

That was fine, wasn't it? Why should they want to? They had nothing in common. _Apart from a deep appreciation for Classic Rock_ , Freddie thought with a small smile, valiantly ignoring the wistful twinge in his chest. But just then, Brian looked up, eyes worriedly scanning the room. Until he found Freddie and his expression turned to something like relief. Freddie's foolish heart gave a little jolt. 

"Are you off?" 

Roger's voice made him jump. Freddie jerked his head around to face his friend, startled. "Mmh? Oh. Yes." 

"Good for you, you lucky bastard." Roger said amicably. "You alright?" He added with a brief but sympathetic smile, distracted by a group of people at the bar who were demanding his attention. 

"Yeah… say, is Paul still…" 

"Ex _cuse_ me!" Someone shouted from the other end of the bar. "I need to settle my tab!" 

"Sorry." Roger grimaced apologetically. 

"Not to worry. Go." Freddie waved him off. 

"See you at home then, yeah?" 

"Yes, dearie." Freddie murmured as Roger turned away. Quite of its own accord, his gaze was immediately drawn back to where he had last seen Brian. That little flutter of excitement died and seeped out of him when he realised Brian was no longer there. 

Right. 

Of course he wasn't. Freddie lowered his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. It felt tangled and grimey after the night, even as he made his way to the door. 

The cold, humid night air - it had been raining, it seemed - greeted him together with a whiff of cigarette smoke from a few guys standing around outside. Freddie shivered in his leather jacket and pushed past them, automatically pulling his phone out of his pocket to occupy himself while he made his way to the tube station. He had only gone a few paces when someone stepped into his path. 

"Hey."

That soft voice, suddenly right beside him, took him off-guard completely and stopped him dead in his tracks. Freddie lowered his phone and looked up. And further up, eyes wide. Gosh, Brian really was very tall now that Freddie was in flat shoes. 

"Hey." Freddie blinked in surprise, lips slightly parted over his teeth. Under normal circumstances, being approached by a client outside the club should have rung alarm bells, Freddie knew that, but instead, it was a fresh tremor of excitement he felt rushing through him. Brian's eyes briefly scanned his now bare face, only a trace of eyeliner remaining, and it made him feel oddly self-conscious. But then, Brian smiled and Freddie couldn't help but smile back. 

"I was hoping to… I… the thing is, I have a mad idea." The curly-haired man announced, and swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or a… a proposition."

"Oh?" 

Oh God. Freddie tried to keep his face from splitting into a grin, his heart hammering out a fast rhythm: _he's-asking-you-out, he's-asking-you-out, he's-asking-you-out…_

"I'd like you to come to New York with me," said Brian. 

Freddie's eyes went impossibly wider. "What." 

"It's only five days, and I'll pay for everything, of course." The other man continued, gesticulating with his long fingers and sounding quite business-like, now, a small crease between his brows. "I'll pay for your… your time, too, only I'm not sure how much would be… How much might be appropriate. I was thinking six thousand? Would that be alright?" 

It felt as though Freddie's fluttering heart was a bird, shot down in flight. It sank with a sharp ache from its soaring heights, even as his throat tightened and his jaw tensed. 

"I'm not a fucking _rent boy_ ," he ground out, glaring up at the other man. And then: " _Fuck_ you!" 

Brian had the audacity to look shocked as Freddie shouldered past him. 

"No, wait, I- I didn't mean-" 

Freddie whipped back around and silenced the other man with one seething look. " _Six_ thousand…?" Somewhere between those two words, the anger in his voice faltered a little as that information sank in fully, a part of him deciding to put hurt feelings aside for a moment. "Six thousand pounds?" he repeated, quietly and a little numbly, eyes flicking to the door of the club. After all, sleeping with clients for extra money was strictly forbidden and would get you fired- fuck, was he actually considering it? 

"Yes." Brian said, watching him cautiously. "And when I say for your time, I… I do mean your _time_ , and not… nothing else, I wasn't trying to insinuate…" He trailed off, bowing his head a little. 

_Yeah, right_ , Freddie thought, narrowing his eyes at him. As if Freddie would be in any position to say no if Brian decided to change the terms of engagement to whatever took his fancy at any point. For over a thousand pounds a day and an all-expenses paid for stay in New York, there was precious little Brian couldn't ask of him. 

Bloody hell. That was a lot of money though. That was enough to clear his loan at the bank and have a couple of thousand left over. Enough to buy an electric piano. Enough to take a break from dancing for a bit and maybe… 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm not… I'm probably not sober enough to explain myself very well." Brian sounded so earnest, with his kind eyes and his stupid, handsome face, that Freddie felt himself soften a little despite himself. _He's not asking you out, for goodness sake_ , he reminded himself bitterly, _he wants to buy you, you're a fucking commodity to him_. "Please, will you think about it?" Reaching into his pocket, Brian pulled out a business card and held it out, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Just think about it?" 

Six thousand _fucking_ pounds. 

Very hesitantly, Freddie raised his hand and slowly closed his fingers around the business card. 

"Mercury!" 

The all too familiar voice calling him startled them both. Brian let go of the card and turned back over his shoulder, and Freddie looked past him, and found Paul leaning out of the door, looking part wasted and part furious. His eyes moved back and forth between Freddie and Brian, and his scowl deepened. 

In a split second, Freddie decided that no part of him wanted to deal with _this_ right now. He quickly pocketed Brian's business card, gave the tall man one last glance, and turned on his heel, marching away and ignoring the Irishman's voice echoing down the street. 

"Mercury!" 

Paul was out of luck. 

_Sorry, dear_ , Freddie thought coldly, disappearing around the next corner, _Mercury has left the building._

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, your thoughts are appreciated! 🙏🏻😁


	4. Freddie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just once again say how thrilled I am that others - you know, apart from me - like the premise of this AU? Honest to God, I'm so obsessed with this already but also it's such a bitch to write because, ugh. Actual plot and world building. Ahaha, let's see how I manage.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta reader BisexualRoger! ❤️ You are a treasure.
> 
> Soundtrack: Gotye - Heart's A Mess

\- - - 

The glow of his phone screen was blinding. Freddie squinted as he checked the time, and found that he'd only been asleep for four hours. It was sobering up that had woken him, he knew. Or rather, the beginnings of a hangover.  
He groaned and dropped the phone back onto the nightstand, burying his face in his pillow.

\- - - 

At half past ten in the morning light was filtering in through the heavy curtains, not at all serving Freddie's desperate desire to stay asleep. Cracking an eye open, he longingly gazed at the empty pint glass on his bedside table. He could feel how dehydrated he was and his mouth tasted foul. 

Mixing drinks was never a good idea and the couple of vodka tonics washed down with champagne had done him in. There was a dull ache in his head and his body felt heavy and sore. Getting out of bed seemed unfathomable, so he resigned himself to lying there, parched and miserable, for another half hour or so. 

God, he felt gross, covered in last night's sweat. The sheets clung to him unpleasantly. The air in the room was stale. 

His whole fucking life was disgusting. 

As his mind wandered, the events of the previous night came back to him in full. An wave of mixed emotions washed over him as he recalled the Champagne Room and everything that had come after, like a film running on triple speed. There was a fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach as Brian's curious, kind eyes and that warm smile hovered in front of Freddie's inner eye, but the next moment he remembered leaving the club, and the feeling turned to nausea. 

Mad. 

He'd been mad to think that Brian might - what? Ask him if he'd like to grab a coffee sometime? Take a walk along the South Bank? 

Why the _fuck_ would he do that? 

Freddie was familiar with the types of guys who asked strippers out, and Brian wasn't that by any stretch of the imagination. However, perhaps asking him out would have been less bizarre and unexpected than the offer he had presented Freddie with instead.

Scraping his teeth over his chapped bottom lip, Freddie rolled over onto his back with a groan and frowned up at the ceiling. For a few moments he genuinely wondered if it had all been a dream. 

But it _had_ happened, hadn't it? New York. Six thousand pounds. For his _company_. Whatever that meant. He couldn't bring himself to believe that Brian's intentions were wholly innocent. It just didn't seem possible. 

With a huff of a laugh, Freddie screwed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand over his face.

What the fuck was Brian's deal? He had to be very lonely with money to burn. Or maybe this sort of thing was just what rich people got up to when life became too boring? Undoubtedly, they assumed anyone could simply be bought to entertain them however they pleased as long as the price was right. 

There was not a chance Freddie was considering taking him up on that ridiculous offer. 

\- - - 

_Not a chance_ , he thought, hours later, having eventually dragged himself out of bed only to curl up on the sofa with a mug of tea and the endless, mind-numbing entertainment of his social media feeds. 

_Not a chance_ , as he slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket, some time later still. He pulled out the business card and turned it over in his hand. It was dark blue, sleek and revealed little. 

**Brian H. May**  
_ CSO, Nova Enterprises _

There was no social media information at all, only an email, a land-line and a mobile phone number. Very old-school, Freddie thought and frowned, wondering what CSO stood for.

But of course; science. Brian had mentioned that, hadn't he. Scientific advisor, he'd said, or something along those lines. Chief scientific officer, then? 

Freddie padded into the kitchen to make his third cup of tea of the morning, chewing a bit of dead skin off his lip as he contemplated the card. 

Not that it was morning anymore. Close to one in the afternoon already. Roger would be up soon. Freddie put the card aside while he went about preparing a large mug of Earl Grey, adding more sugar than he usually might. It probably wasn't going to help with the hangover much, but there was something comforting about the additional sweetness. Freddie grabbed the small, dark blue card from the counter before he returned to the couch. 

When Roger finally emerged, not twenty minutes later, Freddie had finished his tea and reverted to a horizontal position, lying on the sofa with his legs thrown up onto the backrest. So engrossed was he in his phone that he got a little fright and almost dropped it onto his face when his flatmate's door creaked open. 

Roger grunted in greeting as he shuffled through to the bathroom. It was another quarter of an hour before he joined Freddie on the sofa, marginally more awake and holding his own freshly brewed mug of tea in one hand and his phone in the other. 

"Alright?" 

"Mmh." Freddie hummed, moving his feet out of the way a little so Roger could lean back properly.

"Hanging?" 

When Freddie nodded with a little grumble of displeasure, Roger gave him a small grin and turned to his phone screen. 

"I'm feeling pizza." 

"For breakfast?" 

"Yeah." Roger shrugged. "There's nought in the fridge."

"Hmm."

"D'you want anything?" 

"No." Freddie was a bit hungry, but eating felt like a dangerous endeavour just now because he was also still a bit nauseous. Lowering his own phone to his chest, he watched a bright smile light up his friend's face as he gazed at the screen. Interesting. Freddie narrowed his eyes a little and poked Roger's shoulder with his toes. "What's that you're smiling about, darling?" 

Caught out, Roger reigned in the smile a little and glanced over at him. "Wouldn't you like to know." 

"I would," Freddie said simply, and poked him again. "Spill the beans, blondie."

"Alright, gimme a moment, I'll order first."

Roger looked awfully pleased with himself and Freddie was already pretty sure that he knew what this was about. He shut his eyes for some time while his flatmate scrolled through pizza options, but it didn't really help. In fact, it only made him feel more nauseous. Maybe a bit of greasy food _would_ be nice...

"Okay." Roger sighed. 

Blinking his eyes open, Freddie tucked a hand behind his head and met Roger's eyes expectantly, breaking into a smirk. "Well?" 

"Got a date," Roger confirmed his suspicion with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Tonight." 

"Mhm." Freddie pursed his lips. "Is it who I think it is?" 

Placing the mug down on the cluttered coffee table, Roger scratched the stubble on his cheek, his grin now so wide it had turned a little bashful. "We got talking last night, like… properly, you know. And… yeah, we're going for dinner tonight." 

"Ohh, dinner. Congratulations." Picking up his phone again, Freddie gave Roger a sly look over the top of it. "About time, too." 

The blond man gave another shrug, still looking exceedingly pleased with himself and perhaps even a little nervous. Because he _cared_ , Freddie knew, and was genuinely happy for his best friend. Roger and Dominique had been dancing around each other for ages, exchanging flirtatious banter and leaving each other and their friends guessing. Not usually one to hesitate or second-guess himself when it came to girls, Roger had been stunned into inaction for a while by the stunning French burlesque dancer, who was a commercial law student during the day, if Freddie wasn't mistaken. Not only did she seem to match his wit at every turn, she was incredibly confident and independent in a way which, Freddie supposed, had made his friend wonder if she wouldn't simply laugh off his advances. But as Freddie had told him many times before, one would have to be blind not to see the way Dom gravitated towards the bar whenever Roger was behind it. 

"So, hey." Turning towards him a little, Roger put one elbow up on the backrest. "Go on then, what was the deal with that rich bloke last night? Pervy Paul's friend?" 

"Colleague." Freddie corrected him, although he wasn't sure why it came out quite so sharp. 

Roger raised an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, _colleague_."

"I mean... that's just-" Freddie licked his lips and put his phone aside, averting his eyes. "He- he said that." As if it mattered. 

"Okay." Roger repeated, looking a little more interested now than he had been initially. "Not a creep then?" 

'No,' Freddie wanted to say, but then again, he really wasn't quite sure that he could confidently make that statement. After all, there was the offer, which...

"Well," Taking a deep breath, he pulled his legs off the back of the sofa and slowly came up to sitting, meeting Roger's eyes. "You tell me." 

\- - -

"Shit," said Roger, staring at him open-mouthed when Freddie had finished recounting everything that had happened, along with the results - or lack thereof - of the half hour's worth of sleuthing he had just done on the internet, armed with the little information he had. Roger shook his head in disbelief, looking aside for a moment, and then back at Freddie. "Holy shit." 

"I know." Freddie snorted quietly, playing with Brian's business card which he held in his hands. "And like I said, he barely _exists_ online. Not like an actual person, you know. Even his LinkedIn is pretty bare bones!"

"I mean," Roger frowned for a moment, thinking it over, "I guess some people are really private that way."

"I know, I know," Freddie waved a hand. "But then this company he works for, it's... I mean, their site. I gather, here," he picked up his phone, swiping to the relevant tab. "It's about commercial space flight? I think? But it's so vague, all of it. The future of human endeavor." Freddie read out and made a face, as though to say, 'And what's that supposed to mean?' "Just, it's all very strange, that's all." 

"Well. You do attract the weirdos." Roger chuckled, and Freddie narrowed his eyes, flipping him off playfully in return. "What, it's fucking true!" 

Their laughter was interrupted by the doorbell and Roger jumped to his feet to buzz the pizza delivery person in. Noticing the hint of regret on Freddie's face as he looked back at him, the blond man broke into a grin. 

"Don't worry. I got us a large one." 

\- - -

Freddie nibbled on a slice of peperoni pizza while Roger assured him that he had definitely done the right thing, turning down that insane offer. After all, Roger figured, he didn't want to risk ending up mutilated in a ditch somewhere. It was always the regular guys who turned out to be mass murderers, he insisted. 

Except there was nothing _regular_ about Brian, thought Freddie. 

However, he was becoming increasingly annoyed with himself because he was utterly unable to think about anything but the man he had met last night. And although his thoughts took many paths, most of them refused to end in a scenario that was wholly undesirable.

He saw himself in New York, walking through Central Park, fine dining with the tall, dark and handsome stranger and hanging out in an impossibly expensive penthouse.

_Unrealistic._

He saw himself in a hotel room, imagined Brian's long fingers threading into his hair, gripping his neck. Demanding obedience and repayment. 

_Fantasy._

The reality, if it were that, would be a far cry from the scenario in his imagination, which stirred excitement in the pit of his stomach. 

It wouldn't be like that at all. Freddie knew that. He _knew_ that. 

But he also fancied himself a good judge of character and something inside him stubbornly refused to believe that Brian was a psychopath or a creep. Unfortunately, that gut feeling was at odds with his common sense, which told him that no one, but absolutely _no one_ , was going to give him that amount of money out of the goodness of their heart, just because they were lonely and fancied a nice chat. Roger agreed with the latter. So did Kenny and Peter and Mary, once Freddie had decided to share the story with a handful of close friends via rambly voice messages, while lounging around in his room in the afternoon. His gut feeling was outvoted and outsmarted, but as feelings were reluctant to submit to reason, it lingered and niggled anyway at him. 

All through the day and into the evening, that sense of 'but what if…' persisted, until Freddie was veritably desperate to shake off the memory of the night before. He'd made up his mind. No, in actual fact, there was nothing to so much as make up his mind about. Enough already. 

And still, the business card lay on his bedside table, refusing to be thrown away.

_Brian H. May_

Even his name was good-natured and honest, somehow, and good grief, what a ridiculous thought that was. Freddie transferred the business card to his bedside drawer.

Out of sight, out of mind. 

\- - -

By the time Roger was getting ready to leave for his date, Freddie had accomplished, among other things, a shower, only to return to the sofa with a fresh set of clothes and his battered acoustic guitar. Absently strumming the handful of chords he knew in no particular order, and missing the piano he didn't own, he resigned himself to the fact that another useless, meaningless day had all but gone by. 

Wasted. 

Tomorrow night he'd be back at the club. 

A certain, familiar gloom overcame him then. Why couldn't he get his life together? Everything had looked so promising once. His whole life still ahead of him, every possibility to get where he wanted to be still an option. But with every failure, with every disappointment, with every venture which had ultimately lead nowhere, it had all slipped away from him somehow. Chipping away at his confidence, his determination. Now it felt as though time was running out with each day, each minute.

_Missed your chance._

He blamed everyone who had ever praised his talent and expected something great to become of him. In a way, it was harder to be told you had what it takes, only to fail to live up to the promise of those expectations. It was worse than being told you'd never had what it took in the first place. 

_Too old._

Maybe he'd set his sights too high, tried to get too far too fast. Thrown away opportunities along the way because they weren't good enough, weren't quite the thing he wanted. In hindsight, it was always easier to see where you'd gone wrong. But regret was pointless, because it changed nothing, and Freddie hated living in the past. 

_Too late._

He blamed himself. What if this was it? His entire existence, ultimately leading nowhere. Just living an ordinary life, like everyone else. What was it that had made him believe - that _still_ made him believe - that he was special? That he had something to give? How many others just like him lived meaningless lives til the end of their days, never amounting to anything? 

"You alright there?" 

Freddie looked up at Roger, who was toweling off his hair, fresh out of the shower, and realised he'd stopped playing and was just hugging his guitar. He made an effort to lighten up his expression. It was the hangover, although most of it was gone now. But what remained was always that feeling of self-disgust and lethargy.

"Fine, dear." He smiled. "Just tired." 

"Any plans for tonight?" Roger asked. 

Freddie straightened, absently gazing at his flatmate's bare chest. The small silver barbell in his left nipple, matching his own. A mad drunken dare, that had been, although neither of them had regretted this particular adventure. Good memories. Always that, with Roger. Just being melodramatic again, wasn't he? Life wasn't all that bad. Great friends, money enough to live comfortably. Freedom and time enough to be creative, if he could bring himself to be. The sound of the music playing in the background filtered into his mind, a playlist he'd put on earlier. 

_...heart's a mess  
You won't admit to it  
It makes no sense but I'm desperate to connect  
And you, you can't live like this…_

"None in particular," Freddie replied, and decided that it was time to make some plans, because he wasn't going to sit here alone all night feeling sorry for himself. As Roger disappeared into his room, Freddie reached for his phone, and after a bit of half-hearted scrolling through the lives of friends and acquaintances, and a status update or two about the relaxing day he was having - it was easier to pretend everything was just wonderful if you told the world that it was - he went to open Grindr.

Why the hell not. 

The here and now was what mattered. 

Already, the gallery of men in the area was providing a welcome distraction, taking his mind off of everything else.

Freddie bit his lip, eyes drawn to the picture of a guy who looked like he resided at the gym, with biceps the size of cantaloupes and a bulge to match in his Hilfiger trunks. _Nice._

However, the enticed expression on Freddie's face quickly disappeared when he scanned the bloke's profile.

_No blacks, asians, fems or fats. Love it when fats call themselves masc. lmao_

"Ugh." Freddie quickly clicked away and went to check his messages instead. A new one, from 'Gentle Steve', had just popped up. 

_I like your hair_

Aw. That was a nice change of pace from 'hey', 'what's up' or 'wanna suck me off'.

_Thank you :)_

_Can I pull it while I pound your bussy_

"Hah!" Freddie shrieked with laughter and clapped a hand over his mouth. 

"What's so funny?" Roger yelled from his room.

"Nothing!" Freddie shook his head and typed a quick 'lol seriously?' - after all, he had standards and hooking up with someone who used the word 'bussy' unironically was out of the question. Instead, he went back to browsing profiles. The first one to stand out was the bathroom selfie of a broad-shouldered, beefy guy with a towel around his hips. He had a short-trimmed beard and looked a bit like a rugby player, although most of his face was hidden behind his phone. His nickname was a hammer emoji. Freddie smirked, curling a lock of hair around his finger. 

"Argh, where the fuck are my keys!" Roger called from his room. 

"Kitchen," Freddie called back, and dared to have a peek at the profile. 

_Bi, Top, Friendly, Hung - Dont be shy, say hi :)_ \- it read. Hm. Inoffensive and to the point. MC Hammer here was currently online and 3674 feet away. 

"Oh, right." Roger strode through the living room, and Freddie glanced up, holding his phone a little closer to his chest. As his flatmate went into the kitchen, Freddie opened the chat. He wasn't in the habit of messaging guys first. In a city as big as London, the amount of messages he received was usually fairly overwhelming anyway. But a fair few of them were unpleasant or uninteresting. And this guy was neither of those things, on first glance.  
Firmly determined to pull himself out of the spiral of anxiety he was slipping into, and fast, Freddie decided to give it go.

_Hey there_

He finally wrote, and hesitated a moment before he added:

_Interesting choice of nickname_

God, that sounded awkward as fuck. Did it? Didn't it? 

"Can't find them!" Roger shouted.

Freddie looked up. "What?" 

"My bloody keys!" 

"Oh. Top of the fridge?"

"Aha! Cheers!"

"What would you do without me?" Freddie asked with a grin, just as his flatmate marched back into the living room. Roger smiled and winked, then did a little turn. 

"Wotcha reckon?" He held out his arms, looking down at himself and back up at Freddie, who gave him a quick once-over. 

"Soft grunge James Dean." Freddie told him approvingly. 

"Brilliant." With a contented nod, Roger turned to the mirror by the door and proceeded to fuss with his hair some more. 

When Freddie looked back down at his phone, the screen coming to life upon eye contact, hammer-man had replied. 

_Hey thx  
Lookin gud cutie  
H r u?_

Freddie pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side. Thanks to roughly forty-five minutes of twisting and turning in front of the mirror in shorts and a crop top with his phone in hand, Freddie thought his own profile picture did in fact do a very decent job of displaying his best physical (arse, waist) and facial (eyes, lips) attributes.

_Why, thank you  
I'm not too bad, and yourself?_

_I'm gud  
Sounds like ur nite could be better tho_

_Quite possibly  
Are you offering to improve it?_

There was probably a home improvement joke to be had there if he'd thought about it some more. Oh well. 

_Bet u I cud  
Wanna get nailed? ;)_

And there it was, the inevitable hammer pun. Freddie bit back a grin, pulling his lip over his teeth. Despite the awful text speak, he didn't have a bad feeling about this bloke.

_Depends darling_

_On what  
?_

_Do you have the right  
tool  
for the job? ;)_

Hilarious. Freddie cringed at himself, at the same time thoroughly amused. Hammer-man seemed to appreciate it. 

_haha_

"Right, I'm off," Roger announced, having put on his shoes. 

"Mhm." Freddie's eyes were glued to his phone. "Enjoy." 

Photographic evidence of the tool in question graced Freddie's screen not two seconds later. He raised his eyebrows, mind all but made up.

_Impressive  
Can I see your face, big boy?_

Another picture popped up. Well, Freddie thought, he wasn't hideous. 

_Haha not that u'll b seein much of it  
when I bend u over the bed_

Freddie felt a pleasant little shiver run along his spine and the back of his arms, the warm tingling permeating him all the way down to his balls when his mind presented him with a fantasy of that scenario.

_This is true_

He ignored the fact that a certain stranger's face and much slimmer physique flashed before his eyes just briefly, in place of the picture he was looking at.

Roger, who had just pulled on his jacket, opened the door. "Bye!"

_Can u host?_

"Bye, darling!" Feeling a little breathless, Freddie sent his reply as the door closed.

_Yes_

This was just the thing he needed to get Brian off his mind once and for all. 

\- - -

His name was Gavin, it turned out. And he did, as a matter of fact, play rugby. Freddie loved the feeling of his rough, large hands on him and the bulk of his muscular body weighing him down. Anchoring him to physical reality. 

_You're heart's a mess  
You won't admit to it_

More. Harder. Until he knew he'd still feel it the next morning. He came moaning obscenely, chanting 'yeah' and 'oh fuck'. 

_It makes no sense  
But I'm desperate to connect_

Afterwards, he was immediately and absolutely certain that he didn't have any interest in seeing Gavin ever again.

_And you, you can't live like this…_

\- - -

When Roger came home, Freddie was - ironically - two episodes into a home improvement show.

"You're home." Freddie raised an eyebrow in surprise and checked his phone. "Already?" 

"Yup." Toeing his shoes off nonchalantly, Roger came over and tossed his keys on the coffee table before he collapsed onto the couch with a sigh and a beatific smile, bringing with him the faint scent of fresh air and cigarettes. Well, the date couldn't have gone _badly_ , by the looks of him. 

"I thought you were going out for dinner and drinks?" 

"We did. Had a really good time, actually." 

"Did you… abandon your meal halfway through to go back to hers?" Freddie asked with a small grin, picking at the black polish on his nails which was starting to peel. 

To his surprise, Roger shook his head. "I think, um… I think we might take things slow."

"You-" Freddie pulled himself up a bit, the smile on his face turning incredulous. "Who _are_ you? And what have you done with Roger?" 

Roger chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Then he sighed and nodded to himself, as though confirming whatever mental process had clearly taken place tonight. "She's worth it." He met Freddie's eyes. "You know?" 

The pang of bitter jealousy Freddie felt came out of nowhere and hit him hard. Already, irrationally, his mind ran through a scenario of Roger and Dom dating, deciding to move in together, of having to move, having to live alone or with strangers. Being left behind. Abandoned. 

"Yeah."

_Selfish. Fake a smile, at least._ All his efforts to escape the confusion and depressing sense of meaninglessness seemed in vain when Freddie took himself off to bed not much later. Except he didn't go to sleep. Instead he lay in bed, sheets fresh and body sore and tired, not a single clear thought in his mind. 

_Your heart's a mess..._

Would it really be any different? Sleeping with someone for money? Was it really such a big deal, on the grand scale of things? Already, although perhaps stupidly, Brian felt like less of a stranger than most of the guys Freddie had let into his home. Into his bed. _Slut_. Yes. So what? 

_But I'm desperate to connect..._

He could go back to the club tomorrow, or he could go to New York. Fucking _New York._

Every risk, every imaginable danger, seemed immaterial all of a sudden. When the alternative was his life just plodding along the way it did, every part of it so awfully pointless, in that moment, in his mind, that he didn't know how he'd be able to bear it. 

Roger was going to kill him, Freddie thought, and opened his bedside drawer. 

He wasn't going to tell Roger. 

Or anyone else. 

The pale glow of his phone screen illuminated his face as he typed in the mobile number before he had time to second-guess himself, heart racing with the knowledge of what he was doing. It was almost midnight, there was every chance it was too late now. What to write? Hello? Remember me?

_Good evening, Mr May_

Sent. 

Oh fuck, what if Brian had spent all day regretting a drunken mistake and praying to God that he wouldn't hear from Freddie? One tick. Two ticks. _Blue_ ticks. 

Shitshitshit.

Freddie felt sick to the pit of his stomach, heart in his throat, and fought the overwhelming urge to throw his phone across the room. 

_Hello._

Oh God, okay. He'd actually written back. That fullstop didn't look very friendly though. Then again, Freddie realised, he hadn't even told Brian who he was yet.

_You gave me your number last night..._

_Oh, hello!_

Freddie breathed a sigh of relief so colossal it left him a little bit light-headed. Brian was still typing. And typing. 

And typing. Freddie raised his eyebrows, nerves getting the better of him once more. For all he knew the man was trying to figure out how to politely tell him to bugger off and never contact him again. At last, an entire paragraph appeared. Freddie squinted a little, afraid to read it. 

_I was hoping it was you. I'm very sorry about the way I ended last night. Could we please start over? I really did not mean to offend you, I was drunk and stupid. And very selfish. I don't make a habit of talking to strangers in clubs. Or paying them to entertain me. And the last thing I expected was to enjoy myself as much as I did. This may sound pathetic, I realise that, but it has been some time since I've had what was frankly just a lovely time. You are very easy to talk to and very good at your job, and a complete professional, of course. I'm really very sorry that I propositioned you that way. I wasn't in my right mind._

The 'typing…' notification at the bottom of the screen didn't escape Freddie's attention while he was reading, although once it disappeared, no more messages followed. He smiled a little, reassured by the knowledge that Brian was perhaps also nervous and uncertain of what to say. Freddie pondered what to reply for a moment. On the one hand, Brian's message seemed to prove everything he had instinctively felt. It read thoughtful and sincere, but at the same time, it seemed to negate the offer completely. Freddie couldn't help but feel a little deflated, now that he'd all but talked himself into the idea. Of course, it _had_ been an insane notion all along. 

'Water under the bridge, dear', Freddie typed, then deleted the term of endearment and put a winking emoji, then a smiley face, then simply sent:

_Water under the bridge  
And I don't think you're pathetic_

_That's a relief._

_I had a good time, too_

Freddie stared at the words he had just sent, sucking on his lower lip. It was true. He had felt it last night, but he'd dismissed it this morning because he hadn't been sober. It was easy to feel like you were really _vibing_ with someone in that hazy state of mind. However, he was sober now and, immediately, the feeling was back. An inexplicable, warm sense of familiarity, of someone at the other end of those words he was reading who was on the same wavelength as him, spoke the same language. It was rare, that feeling, and Freddie couldn't remember how long it had been since he had last met somebody new who had sparked that particular sensation in him.  
Brian typed for some time, apparently, although the message which finally appeared was short. 

_I'm very happy to hear it._

Freddie snorted quietly, a grin on his face, and wondered about all the things Brian had decided not to say. A part of him wanted to call him out on it, while another part suddenly wondered if it would be crazy to suggest talking on the phone instead. 

And then, Brian veritably read his mind. 

_Could I call you?  
By all means, feel free to say no._

Freddie's heart was back in his throat, which was ridiculous, because he didn't even know what he was nervous about.

_Yes that's fine_

The call came in seconds later and Freddie picked it up, licking his dry lips as he brought his mobile to his ear. 

"Hellooo there."

He stretched out the word, aiming for cool and casual. It came out a bit breathless and over-the-top instead. Fucking wonderful.

"Uh, hi." Brian's chuckle and the timbre of his voice was every bit as soft as Freddie remembered. "I hope you don't mind, it's just that I'm tired and this, this is-" 

"Easier, yes," Freddie agreed. 

"Yeah. I won't keep you long," Brian promised. 

"Don't worry," said Freddie, worrying his lip between his teeth.

"So." 

"So..." 

They both laughed quietly. Freddie caught himself picking at his face, a nervous habit.

"I take it you're not working tonight?" Brian asked. 

"Mmh, not tonight, no."

"Who am I talking to then?" 

"What?" Freddie laughed, but cottoned on a second later. "Oh-" 

"Mercury…?" 

"No, it's... it's Freddie," said Freddie, feeling oddly vulnerable all of a sudden. Giving clients his real name wasn't something he did very often, and certainly not when he knew them so little. But when Brian repeated his name, that edge of anxiety dissolved. 

"Freddie. It's nice to- well, _was_ nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Freddie smiled. "You know, Brian, I don't usually… give out my real name."

"Don't you?" 

"No." 

"Then I'm honoured," Brian said, sounding genuine. 

"As you should be." The initial nervousness, too, was ebbing away slowly, giving way to playfulness. "Are you off to New York then, bright and early tomorrow?" 

"Pretty much," Brian sighed. "Flight's at nine."

"Well, I hope you have a fantastic time, dear. Outside of work." To that, Brian said nothing, and so Freddie continued, easing into his usual, talkative self. "It's a terrible shame you've decided to be reasonable after all, let me tell you, I was going to blow those six grand entirely on carriage rides around Central Park, all the shops on 5th Avenue and fancy craft beer." When there was no laughter on the other end of the line in response to his own, Freddie pulled his lips over his teeth and quickly added: "I'm only joking." 

"The offer still stands." Brian told him, almost at the same time. 

Freddie blinked. "What?" 

"My offer, it still stands. That is… I thought you didn't want…" 

"You're not serious," Freddie murmured. 

"I'm one hundred percent serious." Unbelievably, he sounded it, too. "And, just to be perfectly clear, I- I'm not trying to buy sex. Believe me. I'd be offering more if I was."

Bloody hell. 

_How much more are we talking?_ Freddie immediately wondered, but didn't say, simultaneously trying not to think about the fact that he had considered six grand enough. 

"Okay?" He shook his head, a confused sort of smile on his face. "But even if- listen, even if I agreed, to- to six thousand pounds, is that right?" 

"Yes." 

"Okay." Freddie rubbed a hand over his face. "But how would that work exactly? You'd have to book a flight for me, and I'm sure as hell not sending somebody I barely know a picture of my passport, darling, no offence-" 

"No, no," Brian cut in, "of course not, I understand. I guess... what if... What if I transferred you enough money for a return flight? Through PayPal or, or whatever you prefer. I'd only need your email address, nothing more. Freddie?" 

"Yes," uttered Freddie. He'd fallen silent for a moment while realisation sank in. The realisation that he was most likely going to go through with this. "But what if I just keep the money and disappear? How do you know I won't?" 

"I don't," Brian admitted. "I guess it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Why?" Freddie asked quietly, because he had to know. It was insane. If he was going to agree to this insane thing, he deserved to know. "Why me? Why are you doing this?" 

On the other end of the line, he could hear Brian take a deep breath.

"Have you ever... needed..." he trailed off, and tried again. "If money were no object, and there was something you'd realised you needed, something that would make everything more... that is, less... less _difficult_ , would you not... would you hesitate?" 

"I suppose not," Freddie conceded. However, that still explained absolutely nothing. If anything, he was now a little worried for Brian rather than himself.

"Listen." Brian sighed, and he sounded tired now, as world-weary as he had looked last night at the club. "Thank you. Freddie. For a wonderful night yesterday. Unfortunately, you've met me at a bit of an odd turn in my life, and I wish... oh, it doesn't matter really. I'm going to hang up now. If you want, send me your email address. If not... then I wish you all the best. I really do."

"Thank you," Freddie replied automatically, and before he could add anything else, Brian uttered a quick 'goodbye' and disconnected the call. 

Not entirely sure that he hadn't actually fallen asleep long ago and all this was a strangely realistic dream, Freddie stared at the chat for some time and then quickly typed in his email address and pressed send.

Done.

For a couple of minutes, there was no reply. And then:

_Check your account.  
Goodnight._

All but holding his breath, Freddie did as he was told, and found himself two thousand pounds richer. He blinked a few times, mouth hanging open, and then fought the urge to break into loud, hysterical laughter at half past midnight. 

Holy shit.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think! ☺️


	5. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I'm sorry, this has taken me a while because of some real life stress, but here we are. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you so much to the amazing, talented Tartymoriarty for beta reading! <3 (That's right, I've got a Frian expert on the case now ;))
> 
> Soundtrack:   
> Imagine Dragons - Whatever It Takes  
> Alicia Keys - Empire State of Mind

\- - -

When it came to travelling by air, Freddie was _not_ a fan. Everything from the stress of crowded Heathrow Airport, which somehow never failed to remind him of one of the most miserable jobs he'd ever held, to the unnatural, flying _deathtrap_ that was the plane itself. Usually, Roger would be listing all the things which were more likely to kill you than a plane crash to him right now. 

But he couldn’t call Roger. 

Well, that wasn’t technically true. He could have called Roger, of course he could have. But that would have required explaining to Roger what he was doing at the airport, and Freddie wasn’t ready for that. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for anything other than a much-needed drink. He was frazzled, sleep deprived and jittery from one too many cups of coffee. They had been necessary, however, given that he couldn’t have slept more than three or four hours last night. Which was roughly as many hours as he had spent lying awake.

One hour looking for flights and agonising over whether to book one or not.  
One hour panicking until his chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe properly after he had finally booked one.  
One hour trying to stealth-pack quietly in the middle of the night because he was too terrified, excited and beside himself to sleep.   
One hour tossing and turning, staring at the clock, his mind an exhausted grey haze of static.

The flight was leaving at three in the afternoon, so naturally Freddie had set his alarm for seven in the morning. After all, he’d have to wash his hair, and blow dry it into submission, and shave, and maybe find time for a face mask so he'd look a little less like death warmed up. Because if he was going to play at being a high class escort, in the literal sense of the word, he wasn’t going to do a half-arsed job of it, he had decided. 

A part of him felt extremely awkward and guilty, being handed such a large sum of money for nothing. He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t asked for it in the first place, that this was something Brian had suggested, and that no one, but absolutely _no one_ , could accuse him of exploiting a rich man for his personal gain. But he still felt immense pressure to meet expectations. To be enough. To deserve this, because it was clear as day that he didn't. 

Only, he didn’t really know what was expected of him in the first place and thinking about it only sent him into a frenzy. 

He’d shot bolt upright in bed at the first quiver of his phone on the bedside table, and proceeded to spend the morning packing and re-packing. It was an immensely difficult task, because it required choosing what to wear in New York. Bloody _New York_. What was the weather like? What was he even dressing for? Smart or casual? Smart casual? Extravagant? Conservative? What was he going to sleep in? _Not_ the Mickey Mouse pyjamas from Primark. But where the hell had the top part of his fancy satin pyjamas got to? 

All the while, there was the small matter of going about all this without Roger noticing. Luckily, Roger usually didn’t wake up any time before ten and rarely emerged from his room as a fully-functioning human being before noon, so Freddie had slipped out of the door unnoticed, with his large tote bag and his small suitcase, at half past eleven.

It had been, to say the least, a very stressful start to the day. 

Once through security at Heathrow, he found himself with forty minutes left before boarding was due to begin and made a beeline for Wetherspoons to gulp down a large glass of white wine. Halfway through the second glass, and once he had looked up the time difference between London and New York no less than four times in twenty minutes, Freddie took a deep breath and opened his contacts.

**Blondie** was listed first under favourites. Freddie stared at the green receiver symbol beside the nickname, biting his lip. Maybe it would be better to leave a voice message. But then, Roger would probably just call him back anyway.

With a tortured sigh, Freddie tapped the call symbol and lifted his phone to his ear.

“Hey!” Roger answered cheerfully, against a backdrop of noise. “Hang on, let me turn the music down.”

“Sure,” murmured Freddie, and took another big swig from his wine glass.

“Okay.” The music in the background faded. “What’s up?”

“Um.” Oh God, how was he even going to begin?

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Freddie nodded, even though Roger couldn’t see him. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

There was a brief pause, in which Freddie was still trying to work out how to best explain what he had decided to do. He really should have thought this through before calling.

“Are you at Sainsbury’s?” asked Roger.

Well, that was probably as good a start as any. 

“No,” Freddie replied. “I’m at the airport. Please, don’t freak out.”

“What.”

“I’m at the airport. Please don’t-”

“I _heard_ you!”

“Then don’t freak out!”

“Oh my GOD-"

Roger freaked out. 

In all honesty, Freddie didn’t know what he had expected. He probably would have freaked out too if Roger had announced to him that he was just hopping across the Atlantic to be some mysterious stranger’s personal entertainment for a week. 

And that was the problem.

Roger mad, that was something Freddie could deal with. But Roger wasn’t just mad, he was also _right_.

The fact that Freddie had _a good feeling_ about Brian didn’t stand up as an argument.

“He wasn’t even that good-looking!” Roger exclaimed, a few minutes into what had quickly turned into a shouting match. His voice was now about an octave too high from sheer outrage.

“That’s not- I said I don’t have a bad feeling about him, I didn’t say I want to _fuck_ him! _God_ , Roger!” Freddie retorted, almost knocking his wine glass off the table with a flick of his wrist. He locked eyes with an elderly lady a couple of tables away. She looked mildly scandalised. Freddie lowered his voice. “Listen, you’re welcome to keep yelling at me, but in that case I’m just going to hang up, because I’m already here, and I’m going to New York, and _you don’t get a say in that_!”

There was an exasperated huff at the other end of the line. Roger trying to pull himself together. “I’m just… bloody hell, Freddie, I’m worried, alright? This is _crazy_. You don’t _know_ this guy. At all!”

To say that Freddie wasn’t secretly touched by how genuinely concerned for his well-being Roger was would have been a lie. 

“I know,” he sighed, “but psychotic serial killers are fairly rare, wouldn’t you say? I mean, what are the chances, really?”

“Oh good, so he’s just a lonely weirdo then. That’s still creepy as fuck!”

“Well.” Freddie pursed his lips and studied his nails. “Shit,” he swore, realising he’d completely forgotten to take off what was left of his black nail polish from the other night. Trashy nails. Fantastic. 

“What?” asked Roger.

“Nothing.” Freddie leaned on the table and put his face in his hand, closing his eyes. The wine was starting to give him a headache. Or the lack of sleep. Probably a mixture of both. “Look. I’ll stay in touch the whole time, I promise. You’ll know the minute something’s not right.”

“Hrm.”

“It’s a big city! If I have a bad feeling, I can always just check myself into a hostel and not see him again until I fly back.”

“I _guess_. But… but if I don’t hear from you in, like, half a day, then I’m- I’m calling the police. Or the FBI, or something! I don’t know,” Roger grumbled.

Freddie gave a chuckle. “Alright.”

“And don’t lose your phone.”

“I _won’t_.”

“Do your parents know you’re going?”

“No!” Freddie snorted. “Are you crazy? No one else knows, just you.”

“Don’t I feel special.”

“You _are_ special, you plonker.” Freddie murmured quietly.

“Thanks. And you’re a walking liability,” Roger told him affectionately.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Disaster gay.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Freddie shook his head with a grin. “I’ll message you as soon as I land, I promise.”

“Okay. So did you tell work you’re not coming tonight?”

Freddie sat up straight, eyes wide. “Balls!”

The old lady shot him a disapproving look. Roger just laughed.

\- - -

There was Wi-Fi on the plane, but of course it cost an arm and a leg. He didn’t have the presence of mind to focus on a movie or a show, and besides, the selection was poor. As falling into a rabbit hole of vlogs and social media content to distract himself was not an option, Freddie put on his headphones and lost himself in a playlist he’d entitled ‘2010s nostalgia’ instead. But a wild mix of Kesha, Adele and Imagine Dragons could only do so much to take his mind off his surroundings. The middle-aged gentleman sitting beside him cast him a few peculiar glances from behind his e-reader while Freddie tried to breathe evenly, clutching the armrests of his seat with a death grip.

On the upside, if the plane crashed he definitely wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch in New York.

As they rose up into the sky - tens of thousands of pounds of _metal_ being hauled up into the air against _God’s will_ \- he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the beat of the music. The first ten minutes or so were usually the worst. 

_Whatever it takes...  
'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins, I do whatever it takes..._

His headache had evolved into a constant, dull pounding just behind his eyes. As the plane was finally reaching cruising altitude, someone gave him a tap on the shoulder, making him almost jump out of his skin. Freddie yanked his headphones down, looking up into the smiling face of a stewardess.

“Are you alright, sir?”

He gave the stewardess a tense smile. “Yes… yes, fine. Thank you.”

Ashlee - or so her name tag read - tilted her head to the side and smiled politely, evidently experienced in recognising nervous flyers. “Let me know if you need anything. We’ll be serving refreshments in just a minute.”

“Lovely.” Freddie nodded, and slowly put his headphones back on as she walked away.

The drinks were free. Whether this was for the best or not, Freddie really wasn’t sure.

On the upside, he passed out after three mini bottles of white wine and that three-hour nap was much needed. On the downside, he felt nauseous and disgusting when he woke up and looked it, too, if the airplane bathroom mirror was any indication. Face puffy, skin patchy and eyes bloodshot. Wonderful. At least his hair still looked alright after he’d straightened it this morning.

Freddie felt like another glass of wine - might as well, at this point - but asked for an Earl Grey instead. Then he spent twenty minutes scratching black nail polish off his fingernails to make them look decent again, half-invested in an episode of The Witcher.

When the seatbelt signs came on, indicating that the landing process had begun, he started to doubt his sanity. Roger was right. This was the worst idea. What in the world had come over him?

The previous night felt far away and unreal now. Freddie pulled out his phone and looked at the messages he had exchanged with Brian, trying to re-capture the way he had felt, lying in bed and smiling as the words had popped up on his screen.

_So, it would appear that I am on a plane to New York._

That was the last message, sent by him, seven hours ago. It was the only message he had sent Brian to inform him that he was coming, because up until the very last moment, Freddie hadn’t been entirely sure that he was going to go through with it. There was no reply, of course. He had sent it just before he had switched his phone to flight mode.

Trying to stop himself thinking, he tucked his phone away and mentally prepared for the landing. No matter what, there was no turning back now.

\- - -

His phone established connection and buzzed to life halfway through disembarking. Freddie almost tripped out of the plane as he reached for it, heart in his throat. He quickly dismissed group messages and roaming notifications, opening his chat with Brian.

_You are!  
I’m really glad to hear that.  
I’m guessing you must be in the air now. I hope you have a good flight._

What followed was the name of a hotel - The Laureate - and an address.

_Have a taxi take you, I will pay you back.  
Let me know when you’re on your way._

“This is happening. Okay. Okay,” Freddie murmured under his breath, following the crowds of people headed for passport control.

Getting out of the airport took _forever_. Even so, before he headed for the taxi ranks, Freddie popped into the men’s room to freshen up. It didn’t feel right stepping out onto the streets of New York not looking his best. 

One fresh set of clothes later - black skinny jeans and a grey fair isle jumper, his precious spiked velour Louboutin ankle boots which gave him an extra three inches, and sporting his favourite bright yellow pea coat - Freddie left the airport.

Dusk was falling and his internal clock was in a state of confusion, leaving him with a strange sensation of timelessness and detachment. But nothing felt stranger than riding through New York City in a cab, bright lights flickering past and every view from the car window so much like all the movies and tv shows he had grown up watching that it didn’t feel quite real. However, for the first time since the previous night, a sense of giddiness and excitement was also starting to return to him. Freddie grinned into his phone camera like a lunatic and sent the picture to Roger.

_I’m in a cab. In New York.  
A NEW YORK CAB_

There wasn’t a reply straight away. Roger would be at work by now.  
Freddie took a deep breath and opened the chat below.

_On my way to the hotel. ETA 20min_

Brian’s status changed to ‘online’ immediately and Freddie smiled a little, wondering if he had been watching his phone closely, waiting for his message.

_Hello! Good to hear. Ask for me at reception.  
See you soon._

_See you soon_ , replied Freddie, adding a smiley face and deleting it again before he hit send.

By the time he was standing in front of the hotel, watching the cab pull away, Freddie’s knees felt a little weak. Excitement wasn’t quite the word for it. He was anxious, but not entirely in an awful way. Walking into the hotel felt like diving into the unknown and surrendering to fate. 

It was fucking terrifying. But it also made him feel thrilled at his own courage. Throat dry, he gave the receptionist Brian’s name and went to stand beside a large potted plant, hands in the pockets of his coat. Maybe he should be on his phone? Maybe he should be looking like he had better things to do than standing around waiting for Brian to show?

No, that was idiotic, he was literally just waiting for the man to come down in the lift. How long could that possibly take? If he had his phone out it would look like he had the attention span of a gnat. But maybe Roger had messaged back?

Just then, one of the lifts arrived at the ground floor with a soft ‘ding’. Freddie jerked his head in the direction of the sound. The opening doors revealed a tall, skinny man in jeans and a burgundy jumper. His impressive wild mane of curls was not tied back today, giving him a bit of an artsy, dishevelled look. The nervous, goofy grin which immediately fought its way onto Freddie’s face was entirely beyond his control.

“Hello!” Brian’s face lit up as he spotted him, and he walked over with quick strides. He wasn’t wearing shoes, Freddie noticed, raising his eyebrows at his rainbow-striped socks. The contrast to the smartly dressed city boy Freddie had met two days ago couldn’t have been more pronounced. “You made it!”

“Hello, there.” Instinctively, Freddie tried to go in for a half-hug and a pat on the shoulder, as he might greet his friends, while Brian lifted his arm for a handshake, accidentally jabbing him in the stomach as a result.

“Oh, sorry-”

“Hah, that’s alright, I was just-”

“-didn’t mean to-”

“No, I know-”

They performed an awkward dance of sorts which culminated in waving to each other like a pair of French mimes separated by an invisible glass wall. ‘Single most awkward greeting in human history,’ thought Freddie, pulling his lips over his teeth so as not to break out laughing. This was going well.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged on their way into the lift, although for the most part it was Brian who talked.  
‘Good flight? How much was the taxi? No, please, I must pay you back. Have you ever been to New York before? No? You must see all the sights, I hope the weather holds up.’

As the lift started ascending they fell silent and Freddie watched the electronic display above the doors go into the tens, then the twenties and thirties. _Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…_ His eyes flicked over to the button Brian had pressed. Floor fifty. Goodness.

As he lowered his eyes, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to Brian’s socks again. Even without shoes, and with the heel on Freddie’s boots, Brian was still taller than him.

“I was in a rush,” said Brian, catching him out. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting down there.”

“I like your socks,” Freddie murmured, turning away with a smile. 

“Thank you.” Brian chuckled and wiggled his toes, which were all a different colour, just as the lift doors opened. Freddie had to admit that it was rather hard to feel wary of a man in adorable rainbow socks who’d run down to meet him in such a hurry he’d forgone putting on shoes.

Given the four stars beside the hotel’s sign and the fact that they had gone all the way up to the second-to-last floor, Freddie had braced himself for something impressive. But he still wasn’t quite prepared for what he saw when the door to the suite swung open. His jaw quite literally dropped as he slowly stepped inside, looking around a decadently furnished sitting room. One wall was entirely made up of floor length windows, looking out over Central Park and the skyline of the city. There was a balcony, too, but Freddie barely noticed it because his eyes were immediately drawn to the grand piano in the corner of the room.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, dropping his bags where he stood and heading straight for it. “Oh wow.”

“Yes, the view is really quite…” Behind him, Brian trailed off as it became evident that it wasn’t the windows his guest was impressed with. All but holding his breath, Freddie ran his fingertips along the edge of the Steinway, slowly rounding it. The fallboard was open and, moving on instinct, he let his fingers dance down an octave before he caught himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He glanced back over his shoulder, quickly pulling his hand back.

“No,” Brian shook his head, a curious smile on his lips. “Please, go ahead.”

Freddie hesitated, reminding himself how long it had been since he’d spent any significant amount of time playing the piano back at his parents’ house. 

“No, that’s alright.” He took a step back. “I’m dreadfully rusty. So... this is very extravagant.” He added, looking around the room and stopping to actually admire the view of the city.

“It is.” Brian agreed, coming up beside him.

“You must be used to it,” Freddie ventured.

To his surprise, Brian shook his head. “I’m really not.”

Freddie peered over at him, but no explanation followed. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the complete surreal feel of the entire situation, but Freddie couldn’t stop the laughter which bubbled up in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He raised a hand to his mouth when the other man turned to him with a questioning gaze. “It’s just, I literally don’t know anything about you.”

Brian contemplated this, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“That makes two of us. I don’t know anything about you, either.”

Freddie tutted, unconvinced. “You know a lot more about me.”

“I feel like I know more about Mercury,” Brian said with a shrug and a smirk.

Freddie arched an eyebrow. “Is that who you were expecting?”

“Not at all,” Brian replied earnestly, after a moment, and Freddie released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. The smile on the other man’s lips had turned a little melancholic. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you, I think,” he added, “in the time we have. Anyway!” Folding his hands together, Brian glanced around the room. “Shall I show you around?”

“Please.”

Throwing a last glance over his shoulder at the magnificent view, Freddie followed Brian through to the rest of the suite. 

For better or for worse, the adventure had begun.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this edition of WTF is Freddie wearing!
> 
> Fair Isle jumper:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/50138491092/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Spiked Louboutins:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/50138254446/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> But with this heel (these are men's shoes in 2020, boys and girls, expect more men's heels by 2029 ;))  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/50137710958/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Yellow pea coat:  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/50137710923/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> And now you know. Oh, and in case you haven't seen Brian's rainbow socks...  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/50138518312/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Comments are loved and always replied to! Leave me one. :)


	6. Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with a chapter of this modern madness! And madness it is, this time around. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta reader this week, the always wonderful, always faithful BisexualRoger. ❤️ 🙏🏻 
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> The Wombats - Moving to New York  
> Taylor Swift - Welcome to New York  
> Lana Del Rey - Brooklyn Baby

\- - - 

The suite had one (very luxurious) bedroom. It contained a larger bed than Freddie had ever seen, with an amount of decorative pillows that pleased him on a visceral level. His internal clock urged him to crawl into it, but its singular presence also begged a very important question. 

Brian answered it before Freddie had dared to ask. 

"Oh, don't worry, I'll be sleeping on the sofa," he told him, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. 

Having taken two cautious steps into the room, which was dominated by soothing greens and dusty rose, Freddie turned back over his shoulder. 'Are you sure?' was what he wanted to say, because no part of him was inclined to seriously argue with being offered this marvellous bedroom. But he couldn't be so rude, so he gave a little shake of his head instead. 

"Don't be silly, dear. That's out of the question."

"I insist," Brian said calmly. 

"I'll take the sofa, it could fit two of me from the looks of it." Freddie pointed out with a shrug and a smile. 

Brian opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it, glancing towards the door on the other side of the bedroom instead. 

"Would you like to see the en suite?" 

The bathroom was like something out of a magazine. It didn't look quite real to Freddie, who hadn't had the luxury of a bathtub since he had moved out of his family home. There was an enormous claw-footed tub right beside another floor length window, a half-drawn curtain obscuring the view of the park and the city below. 

"Oh my," Freddie smirked, "a little indecent, isn't it?" 

Crossing over to it, Brian peered out into the never-darkness of New York with a curious smile. "I suppose one would draw the curtain while getting into it."

"One could." The smirk hadn't left Freddie's face. It wasn't as though there were any windows nearby, no real danger of being seen this far up. But the faint _risk_ of being seen combined with the thought of standing over this grandiose city, naked, was really quite tantalising. 

"This could fit two of you as well."

"Hm?" Freddie blinked and turned back to Brian, who nodded down at the tub. Perhaps it was the intimate setting of the bathroom, or the thought of being naked, but the next words which left Freddie's mouth came out low and suggestive. "Oh, it looks like it could easily fit you and me." 

Brain's eyebrows rose up, eyes widening a little in surprise, and Freddie immediately realised what he had just done. He averted his eyes, glancing around the bathroom, cheeks burning. He wasn't supposed to be _flirting_ , for God's sake. This wasn't the club. This was, as Brian had made very clear, not that kind of arrangement. Although just what kind of arrangement it was, Freddie still hadn't figured out. 

"Yes, well." Brian stepped back from the window, brushing a few curly strands out of his face. "I, er… are you hungry? You must be hungry." 

"I'm alright, actually." 

"Are you sure? We could call room service or nip down to the restaurant-"

"Yes, of course," Freddie assented with a pleasant smile, even though he wasn't hungry in the least. All he felt was exhausted and grimy. "Whatever you like." 

Brian hesitated, wringing his hands as he gave him a long, measured look. "Look, please don't think you have to do whatever I want. Please. Consider yourself a guest… if you would? Forget about the money." There must have been a hint of wariness in Freddie's eyes because Brian immediately followed it up with: "No, I mean. You _have_ the money, you already do. I transferred it to you just before you arrived." 

"Oh." 'But I've done nothing to earn it,' Freddie couldn't help but think, at the same time vibrating with excitement at the thought of six thousand pounds in his account. 

"So…" Brian stepped closer, and in the soft glow of the bathroom light fixtures, Freddie found himself momentarily entranced by those alert, thoughtful eyes. There was the faintest hint of Brian's scent, too, or so Freddie thought, breathing deeply. Shower gel or shampoo, or was that just the bathroom they were standing in? No, there was a definite note of something less sterile and warmer underneath, if scents could be warm. "What would _you_ like to do?" Brian asked. 

It took Freddie a moment to wrap his mind around the question because he was too busy imagining how soft Brian's jumper would feel under his palm if he were to lay a hand on his bicep, and how firm the muscle beneath. 

"Uhm." Freddie broke into a slow grin, averting his eyes. Alright. So he was done pretending to himself that he wasn't attracted to the man. There was chemistry here, as there had been at the club, between them, only-

_A look of panic on Brian's face, his shoulders stiff._

_'Alissa, pause playback.'_

It wasn't a simple situation. 

"I actually wouldn't mind having a bath," Freddie admitted, glancing at the bathtub longingly.

"Oh, by all means, do!" Brian seemed almost relieved as he took a step towards the door. "There's a bit of work I have to finish up before tomorrow, so don't worry at all, please take your time."

And with that, he excused himself and left Freddie standing in the en suite, which was roughly the size of his and Roger's living room. 

Roger. 

Returning to the bedroom, Freddie dropped down into an armchair in the corner and pulled out his phone. Sure enough, there were half a dozen messages waiting for him. He took a moment to inform his friend that he was, indeed, still alive and well.

_And the hotel is unbelievable  
I'll show you tomorrow  
Off to have a very fancy bath :)_

Freddie did not draw the curtains. His shadowy reflection in the dark window was a very flattering version of himself that he couldn’t help but watch as he lowered himself into the hot bath. He looked like he belonged, Freddie thought, stretching one leg out of the water and pointing his toes. Luxury in excess. This sort of life. Not a reality, of course, but he would enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

The city lights blurred in the distance, his eyes unfocused as he felt the warm water ease the tension in his body, the faint sound of foamy bubbles popping a soothing kind of white noise which surrounded him. Despite Brian’s words, Freddie hadn’t really meant to take a very long time in the bath. But then again, what was the _point_ of a short bath? Surely no more than twenty minutes had passed… perhaps forty.

The mass of thoughts whirling in his mind slowed and crystallised as he internally arrived in this new place and inhabited the situation. London was fading into the background, memories falling away. Pizza on the couch with Roger. A brilliant smile, a door falling shut. A meeting in the dark, by the Sainsbury’s on the corner. Nervously staring at his phone. A stranger in his bed, and why not? Grunts in his ear and agonising pleasure, gone, all burnt out the moment it was over.

All gone.

Freddie slid down slowly, submerging himself into the water to his chin. Hazel eyes swam in front of his mind’s eye, and he listened carefully. To the traffic far below. The hum of electricity in the walls. But there was no sound from the living room, none that he could hear in any case. He imagined Brian on the sofa, with a laptop, or a tablet perhaps. Engrossed in his work the way he had been lost in thought on that first night. Freddie Imagined what Brian would do if he strolled in, now, in one of those bathrobes hanging on the door. And nothing but the bathrobe, barely tied. So easy to slide off the shoulder, to slide open. 

Would he look? Would he reach out or turn away? And if he didn’t turn away, would he touch or was Brian one of those “straight” guys? Happy to have his cock sucked because it _didn’t count_ , so long as he wasn’t the one doing it? Freddie pursed his lips, fingers lightly tracing the curves and edges of his body below the surface of the water. He’d still do it if Brian had a nice cock. A wry grin, at the thought. Freddie eyed his reflection in the window. _Insatiable tart._

He ought to be ashamed, except he was long past that now. Just a murmur at the back of his mind. Just an echo, but still. Always.

Freddie sighed and raised one hand out of the water, fingers curling around the edge of the tub.

Was it really the man he wanted? Or simply the thrill of the unknown? The flirtation, the chase? Now there was a question. A challenge, oh, Freddie did like a challenge. To have that power, to know he was desired. Sometimes that was enough. Was it the way Brian so careful kept him at arm’s length now which made Freddie want to be contrary and pull him close? Just to know that he _could_?

Oh, he was dreadful, dreadful. 

But why feel bad? What was this to Brian if not a rich man’s indulgent entertainment? To do what he had done, to rent companionship as easily as a hotel room. So what if Freddie played his own games? Surely they were simply as bad as each other?

The water was cooling down. 

Time to get out of the bath.

The fluffy bathrobe felt every bit as soft as it looked. Freddie allowed himself a last, long look in the mirror, at his half-exposed chest and hair an artful mess, as though falling that way by accident. And not as though he had undone the bun he’d tied for the bath and then spent long minutes arranging separate strands carefully to lie just so. His head still ached a little, hadn’t stopped since the plane really.

‘What are you doing?’ The reflection in the mirror seemed to be asking, one eyebrow raised.

Freddie didn’t have a definitive answer, and so he turned away and left the bathroom, padding through the large bedroom on silent, bare feet. It was very quiet, and the light coming from the living room was dim. Shoulders drawn back, combing his fingers through his hair one last time, Freddie stepped through the doorway. And stopped, blinking at the sight which presented itself to him. He had to bite his lips, so as not to laugh at himself and the fantasies his mind had spun.

There on the couch lay Brian, fast asleep. He’d fetched a pillow and blanket, must have got them from the bedroom while Freddie had the water running. Exhaling a long breath, Freddie quietly came closer and crouched down on the other side of the coffee table, folding his arms on top of it. Brian had one arm tucked under his head, his face half-hidden underneath his curls. A tablet still lay on the table, beside a glass of water and a stylus pen. For a little while, Freddie watched him, listening to him breathe. He seemed in a deep, if not peaceful sleep. A small frown between his brows.

Freddie’s knees clicked loudly as he rose to his feet again. He winced, hesitating a moment to see if Brian would stir, before he tiptoed back out of the room, switching off the dimmed wall light on the way. 

Back to the bedroom where, it seemed, he was sleeping tonight after all. 

Climbing into bed - alone - did not feel like disappointment, but relief.

Silly boy. To know one’s own mind. A simple grown-up thing, and he should have learnt it by now.

Silly, silly boy.

\- - - 

The very quiet creak of a door woke Freddie up. He never had been a very deep sleeper, least of all in an unfamiliar place. But he didn’t move nor open his eyes, gripped by that immediate sense of disorientation. Smells and sensations all wrong - not his bed, not his room back in London. The sound of running water just next door.

As his whereabouts slowly came back to him, Freddie rolled over and peered at the bathroom door. There was daylight filtering into the room through the curtains. What time was it? Had he slept in very long? No, surely not. Brian had to be getting ready for work. Freddie immediately felt awkward, not having got up earlier so the rightful occupant of the suite could shower and dress in peace. Not wanting to be in the way any more than he was, Freddie climbed out of bed and slipped out of the room, making his way to the living room with his phone in hand. 

There he curled up on a chair in the corner of the room, eyeing the grand piano for a little while before he turned to enjoy the view instead. It still didn’t feel quite real, even after he’d taken a couple of pictures and sent them to Roger. After five minutes, he snuck over to a sideboard and picked up a room service menu. It was so pleasantly old-school and fancy, an actual menu printed on heavy expensive paper, not a QR code on the corner of the coffee table. 

He was back in his chair, surveying the breakfast options, when he heard the bedroom door.

Brian came into the room, looking every bit the city boy he had appeared to be on Friday night at the club. And it was a look he wore well, Freddie thought, surveying the suit and tie. The beard and his wild hair, barely contained in a bun, prevented him from looking too ordinary. More of a professor, perhaps, on second thought, rather than a banker type. Freddie appreciated men with good dress sense. Still, for all that, he immediately felt somewhat less at ease in front of _this_ Brian, rather than the one he had met last night.

His smile, however, was just as soft and warm. “Good morning.”

“Yes,” Freddie rose to his feet, smoothing over his pyjamas as if that might make him look more presentable. “Good morning-”

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry,” said Brian, walking over to pick up a briefcase which was sitting on the floor beside the sofa. “You didn’t have to get out of bed.”

“No, no, not to worry.” Freddie smiled back, glancing at the window. “I wouldn’t want to sleep all day when there’s so much to see.”

“Yes.” Briefcase in hand, Brian nodded, the look on his face quite regretful. “I’m very sorry I won’t be able to show you around.” He shrugged. “Not that I’ve seen it all myself…”

Freddie raised his eyebrows. “Any recommendations?”

Brian thought about it for a moment. “Yes.” He nodded. “The Guggengheim Museum is gorgeous, inside and out. If you like modern art?”

“I’ll put it on my list.” Freddie did not have a list nor a burning passion for modern art in particular, if he was honest. “You’re working all day?”

“Unfortunately,” Brian scoffed, looking around for his smartwatch and eventually locating it on the armrest of the sofa. “We’ll meet for dinner, if that’s alright with you? Around seven?” 

“Of course.”

“Oh,” Brian paused, halfway through pulling on his coat, and nodded at the menu in Freddie’s hands. “order room service, by all means.”

“Yes,” Freddie held up the menu, “thank you.”

There they stood, at opposite ends of the room, silently eyeing each other for a few moments before Brian cleared his throat and turned to leave, stopping as he opened the door.

“I- I hope you have a lovely day.”

“Thank you, dear, you too,” Freddie replied automatically and cringed at himself, because it was fairly obvious that Brian was not at all looking forward to work. The other man simply gave him a gracious smile.

“See you later.”

“Bye!” Freddie called after him, and exhaled when the door closed. Well then. He wasn't going to waste any time pondering this somewhat peculiar situation he was in, not now, not here. He looked around himself, tapping his fingers against the menu in his hand. 

Goodness, but this place was enormous. And very quiet. 

Perhaps breakfast out in a café somewhere would be a better idea.

\- - - 

Freddie had never travelled by himself before. Not like this, at any rate. It was just that seeing anything new and interesting was boring, he thought, if there was nobody to share it with. Besides, he really didn’t enjoy solitude much, if at all.

It was a shame that Roger couldn't have come. Still, it was silly to think like that. He was here, there were countless sights to see and pictures to take. Memories to make. 

And so, utterly unprepared but determined not to let the day go to waste, he’d stepped out of the hotel with grand ideas of exploring New York. 

He made it as far as the nearest coffee shop before he sat down in an oversized armchair with a chai tea latte, because he had no idea where he was going. Half an hour later, Freddie was still there, frowning at his phone and willing it to provide him with more guidance than just a slew of information. The Statue of Liberty required pre-booking, everything was expensive, although - he supposed - he didn’t have to worry about that for the moment. Still, being so used to counting pennies, it was difficult to shake off the mindset that he couldn’t afford to spend too much money. Having gone through countless ‘X Things To See And Do In NYC’ lists, which had only served to make him feel completely overwhelmed and indecisive, he eventually grew frustrated with himself and decided to just venture out and look at what was directly in front of him.

The air was chilly, but the weather was pleasant, and so he decided to have a wander around Central Park first. This was a little less daunting than the broad, busy streets of the city, and it was a lovely park, as far as parks go. However, walking around aimlessly without a goal wasn’t something Freddie enjoyed very much either, and so he found himself drawn from one feature to another. A little boating lake for toy boats, a statue of Alice in Wonderland, a busker, a small castle in the middle of the park. He was trying to take a selfie of himself with the latter when his phone slipped out of his hands and clattered across the ground, a few feet away.

“Shit!” Freddie froze and grimaced, afraid to find the screen shattered.

But before he could step forward and reach for it, someone else did. A young man - jeans, varsity jacket and a baseball cap - picked it up and held it out to him just as Freddie rushed over.

“Oh, thank you, that’s- that’s mine.” Freddie took it off him, breathing a sigh of relief as he inspected it and found it intact.

“No problem,” the American said - for his accent identified him as a local just as much as his wardrobe. “Wow,” he added, "that's quite an accent.”

Freddie met his eyes as he tucked his phone into his pocket. The man couldn't have been older than twenty-five, good-looking in a very American way, or so Freddie immediately thought. Blue eyes and perfect teeth and dimples when he smiled. Although he wasn't a stereotype, not quite. Neither tall nor broad, though clearly fit, there was something quite delicate about his handsome features. 

“Where are you from?”

“London.” Freddie said, pulling his lip over his own much less attractive teeth.

“Wow.” The young man nodded. “That’s wicked.” He glanced at the castle. “Want me to take a pic?”

“Oh…” His selfies usually came out better than the pictures others took of him, Freddie thought, partly because he was free to take roughly two dozen and then select the very best one.

The stranger misinterpreted his hesitation, sounding amused. “I promise I’m not gonna run off with your phone.”

“Oh gosh, no,” Freddie chuckled, lifting a hand up to his mouth. “I didn’t think you would. But it’s alright, really, thank you for offering.”

“Sure.” The young man shrugged and pulled out his own phone. “Can you take one of me?”

Freddie looked between the picturesque little castle behind him and the man in front of him, and surveyed him a little more closely. From his well-manicured hands to his neatly shaped eyebrows.

“Of course, dear,” Freddie said, smile widening a little.

The young man handed over his phone. “I’m Joe, by the way.”

"Freddie." 

As it turned out, Joe was from Boston and was visiting his cousin, who also had to work during the week. Much like Freddie, Joe had come down short-notice when he’d found himself between jobs and his plans for his stay were no more concrete than Freddie’s.

“Yeah, I needed a change of scenery," he told him as they walked through the park, headed for nowhere in particular. “It’s been one hell of a month. Lost my job... broke up with someone just after Valentine’s Day...” Joe gave a dry laugh.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie offered, eyeing him curiously. “Break-ups are horrid.”

“Nah, that’s okay." A moment's hesitation, a fleeting sideways glance, before Joe added: "...He was kind of a douchebag.”

Freddie smirked. “Well then. Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Damn right!” Joe laughed, nodded. They bumped elbows as they walked along, a tentative friendship struck up. “So… I was gonna go and check out Brooklyn today. Do you wanna come?”

\- - - 

As he sank into the couch, Freddie wasn't sure how he was going to get up again. The phone rang for a while, the sound tinny against his ear, before Roger picked up.

“Hey! You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Freddie smiled, putting his tired feet up on the coffee table. “Everything’s wonderful.”

“That’s good. How’s New York?”

“Lovely!” He made himself more comfortable on the sofa and stifled a yawn. His body was still on London time, it seems. It demanded sleep, yet it wasn't even six o'clock. “I’ve been out and about _all day_ , my feet are killing me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmh, I’ve walked _miles_ , darling, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Where did you go?”

“God, absolutely everywhere!” Freddie declared dramatically.

“Statue of Liberty?”

“Well, no, not there.”

Roger burst out laughing and Freddie tutted. “We’ll do that another day, we’ve booked tickets and everything. It was all very unplanned today, we just walked and walked, from Central Park to Times Square… to the Empire State Building, and then we were close enough to Greenwich Village, so we stopped by there for a bite to eat. And we had a drink, would you believe, in the oldest gay bar in New York!”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Freddie chuckled. “And _then_ we walked all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge and across.”

“Gosh.”

“I know,” Freddie sighed, “I’ll send you pictures in a minute. I took a taxi back to the hotel though, I couldn’t walk another step.”

“Wait, and where did he go?”

“Oh,” Freddie bit his lip. “It wasn’t Brian I was with, he had to work. I… made a friend.”

“Did you.”

“Yes.” Freddie chewed on a nail, smirking. “We ran into each other this morning, and he’s absolutely delightful.”

“Uh huh.” Roger sounded as suspicious as he had every reason to be.

“His name is Joe and he’s from Boston,” said Freddie, miming Joe’s accent as well as he could.

It made Roger snort with laughter. “Alright, hang on. So let me get this straight, yeah? You’re in New York as some rich guy’s escort, right-”

“Well-” Freddie started.

“And first thing you do is find yourself a holiday fling? Bloody hell, Freddie!”

“It’s not like that!” Freddie protested. “It’s not like that _at all_!”

“Right, so then _Joe_ is a fifty-year-old married straight guy who just fancied a pint in New York’s oldest gay pub?”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “No, he’s twenty-three, very gay and very cute, but that’s not-”

“You’re fucking impossible, I swear-”

“Oh, shut up, you’re one to talk!”

Roger laughed. “Fair.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Freddie said emphatically. “It isn’t like that, we were just hanging out. And _now_ ,” he sighed, “I have to get ready for dinner with Brian.”

“You’re in high demand.”

Freddie inspected his nails. “Of course I am, darling. I’m a fucking treasure.”

“Alright, well, send me those pics. And stay safe.”

“I will, don’t worry. Oh wait-”

“What?”

“Was PP there last night?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Freddie nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully. It had just occurred to him that perhaps since Brian was here, Paul might be, too. For all Freddie knew, he could be staying in this very hotel. What a horrid thought.

“Do you think he’s in New York as well?” Roger asked, thinking along the same lines.

“God, I hope not. No idea.” Freddie shook his head. “Anyway, I have to run.”

Once they had said their goodbyes and Freddie had ended the call, he brought up his message exchange with Brian and re-read it again, short as it was. Brian had sent him a location pin which indicated a vegan restaurant about a ten-minute walk from the hotel. Freddie had already looked it up. 

_I hope you’re enjoying the sights._  
_Shall we meet here at 7pm?_

Freddie gazed at the messages which were followed by his confirmation. God, but it was strange. Last night had been simply bizarre, in so many ways, but this? It felt like - well, _a date_. And he was nervous. 

The crux of the matter was that it was easy to entertain - when he was Mercury. But _Freddie_ , in his own right, was far less interesting, far less impressive. 

Of course, there were ways to ease the nerves. Between changing into a fresh shirt - a tropical floral print, defying winter - and styling his hair into something less wind-swept and frizzy, Freddie poured himself a strong vodka tonic from the mini bar. It went down very nicely, the faint buzz welcome and relaxing. Only he wished he could have had a line to go with it. 

And when he glanced at his phone, it was time to go. A few last finishing touches, eyeliner re-applied, a scarf arranged over his yellow coat, just right - and he was out the door. 

\- - - 

The wind had picked up when Freddie stepped outside, bringing with it an almost wintery chill. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he put on his headphones and made his way down 5th Avenue in the dusk. One of the things Freddie had accomplished today, with Joe’s input, was putting together a New York playlist. It was a silly thing, but Freddie liked his playlists. As far as he was concerned, nothing could express emotion as well as music, and every phase of his life was firmly tied to soundtrack, of sorts. Besides, when he was listening to music, it was easier not to feel alone. The lyrics understood, the melody comforted, the beat made his heart beat steadier, or so it felt.  
The soft, dreamy sounds of Lana Del Rey accompanied him down the street and put a distracted smile on his lips.

_Well, my boyfriend's in the band  
He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed  
I've got feathers in my hair  
I get down to Beat poetry  
I’m a Brooklyn baby…_

As he turned into a side street, he was starting to feel quite pleasantly excited. Whatever the night would bring, he was sure it wouldn’t be boring. He _wanted_ to get to know Brian, wanted answers to so many questions. 

The restaurant turned out to be on the opposite side of the street and Freddie jogged across, letting himself into the welcoming warmth of the place. He spotted Brian almost immediately, sitting at a table for two by one of the windows. Somewhat forlornly staring into a half-finished glass of wine in front of him, his head propped up on one hand, he looked as though he’d been here a while. Surely Freddie wasn’t so late?

Brian noticed him and looked up as Freddie walked over, taking off his headphones.

“Hello, dear.” Freddie gave him a smile, which faltered when it wasn’t returned.

“Hey.” Brian watched him take off his coat and sit down, then lowered his eyes again.

“Sorry I’m late,” Freddie added, brushing hair out of his face. Not usually one to apologise for his timekeeping, he didn’t know what else to say. It was hard to miss that Brian looked decidedly annoyed. More than that, he seemed… angry.

“Wine?” Ignoring his apology entirely, Brian picked up the uncorked bottle on the table and proceeded to pour some into Freddie’s glass.

“...Yes,” Freddie murmured, watching the glass fill up, although it did not seem as though his reply was required. "Thank you." He’d been excited, only a minute ago. Hungry, too, having spent the whole day on his feet. Now he just felt increasingly uncomfortable and vaguely nauseous with nerves. "Rough day at work?” he ventured, picking up the glass and taking a large sip. The wine was very dry and felt as though it stuck to his tongue.

Leaning back in his chair with his own glass in hand, Brian nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” said Freddie.

Brian tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at him a little. “Why would you be? I’m no one to you.”

Taken aback, Freddie opened his mouth and closed it again, pulling his lips over teeth. He had no idea what to say to that. “Don’t worry about it, you wouldn’t understand.” Brian all but rolled his eyes and turned to look around for the waiter. “Have a look at the menu, will you? Excuse me!”

While Brian tried to flag down a waiter, Freddie sat frozen, small tendrils of panic creeping up the back of his neck. The man sitting in front of him right now was such a stark contrast to the kind, warm, polite Brian he had met at the club, and last night. Even this morning. He wouldn’t have come to New York for _this_ man, no matter the pay. The waiter arrived at their table, tablet in hand, and Freddie quickly picked up the menu as Brian ordered, but he couldn’t quite focus on the words. 

“Sir?”

“Freddie.”

“Yes… yes, um,” he faltered, and read out the first thing his eyes settled on. “The- the beet salad, please.”

He didn’t even like beetroot. Well, no matter, it was too late to change now, the waiter was already walking away. Freddie took another slow gulp of wine during the silence that followed.

“Did you have a good day?” Brian asked, sounding as though he was veritably forcing himself to make conversation.

“I did.” Freddie tried to find it in himself to start talking about his day, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. So deeply unnerved, thrown and disappointed was he by the personality transplant Brian seemed to have undergone, that he couldn’t quite think clearly, and the embarrassment of finding himself in such a _state_ over it, in turn, angered him. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, before he could quite stop himself. “I’m not quite sure what I’m doing here, you’d clearly rather be alone.”

The moment the words had left his mouth, the creeping sense of panic intensified as the other man raised his eyebrows at him, giving him a long, unreadable look. Brian rubbed his chin, lips pursed thoughtfully.

“You’re here because you needed the money,” he finally said, his tone acerbic. “That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Money.”

The words hung between them for a long few seconds and Freddie was mortified to realise that he was close to tears, and more afraid still that it might show. He could feel his heart racing uncomfortably, pounding all the way up in his throat. 

“No.” It came out a half-whisper and he swallowed, shaking his head. “I can’t- I can’t do this.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, legs almost moving of their own accord. It felt marginally better, to be standing. A momentary illusion of superiority, and he clung to it as Brian blinked up at him in surprise. 

“I thought I could,” Freddie heard himself say, more force behind his words, more anger, “but I can’t. I have no idea what your problem is, but I won’t sit here and- and let you speak to me like this. And just by the way,” he snapped, realising he was still holding the glass, “I _hate_ red wine.” With that, he leaned forward and tipped his glass out into Brian’s, purple drops splashing out and staining the white table cloth. Then he snapped up his coat and headphones from the back of the chair.

“Freddie, wait-”

“No. Forget it!” Not bothering to put on his coat, Freddie turned and headed for the door with quick strides, his knees shaky from the rush of adrenaline.

“Freddie!”

He barely felt the gust of cold wind on his flushed face as he pushed the door open and stepped outside, not certain of anything other than needing to get out, needing to get away from this. His mind was racing. Back to the hotel, yes, pack his things, get out of this insane situation. Go somewhere, anywhere. With a few determined steps, he was at the edge of the pavement and automatically jerked his head around to look right before he stepped out into the road.

It was a split second. A split second of deafening sound and bright light. Tires screeching and the long, loud shriek of a car horn that all but made his heart stop. The impact knocked the air out of him before he could gasp and threw him off his feet. 

" _FREDDIE!_ " 

A shock of pain, not yet felt, as he hit the ground. 

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws Joe Fanelli into this* Whoops! 😂
> 
> And now, yell at me! What did you think??


	7. Unsteady Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. lol So, I accidentally wrote this chapter in two days and because I'm impatient af I'm posting it right away. Who needs update schedules, am I right? 
> 
> Just fyi, this being an AU, their lives have of course not been what they were in reality, growing up. I'm making an attempt to translate these people into who they might have been in modern times, you be the judge of whether I'm succeeding or not. 
> 
> A big thank you to my lovely beta reader this week, tartymoriarty! ❤️
> 
> Soundtrack: Darque&Dearest - Rust

\- - - 

Everything was a blur of panicked voices, the concrete cold and hard against his cheek. A wave of throbbing pain he could barely localise coursing through him, and he couldn't move, not yet, couldn't quite figure out which way was up. 

"Oh God, oh my God-" 

"He just ran out right in front of me, I didn't see him!" 

"Freddie?" 

"I didn't see him!" 

A hand on his arm, steadying him as he slowly pushed himself up to sitting. 

"Oh, thank goodness-" Breathless relief in that familiar voice. 

"Let me go…" His own voice was unsteady, tinged with confusion and embarrassment. "I'm okay." 

"Come- let me-" 

"I'm _okay_." He tried to pull away, aware of Brian beside him, but fell into him regardless as he attempted to get up, his legs not cooperating. A pained whine made its way over his lips before he could stop it. 

Cars hooting and people staring, another pair of hands on him. His scarf was still around his neck, but the silky material of his shirt was thin and the wind was icy. Or perhaps it was the shock, making him shiver so. 

"My coat-" 

"I've got it."

"Get him off the road." 

"I can walk…"

"I've got you." A glimpse of Brian's concerned face in his field of vision, an arm around him, holding him up. "I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry." A gentle murmur, and then an urgent aside, almost a growl: "Can you get us to a hospital?!" 

"Yeah, yeah, of course." 

"No…" Freddie protested weakly. He didn't need a hospital, he was fine. He was fine. He just needed a rock to crawl under and for everyone to leave him alone. Because there were tears welling up in his eyes, but it was nothing, nothing, just the shock, he was _fine_ but oh God, he was so mortified. Where was his phone? His headphones? A car door opening, and he didn't want to get into the cab, only there were so many people staring all around and his head hurt, his leg and his elbow hurt. Letting them lower him down into the back seat - perhaps the lesser evil. Only now Brian was pulling away, and he turned to him, clutched at his sleeve instinctively. 

"Where are you going?"

Brian crouched down, meeting his worried gaze.

"I have to pay," he told him softly, "just a minute. I'll be right with you, okay?" 

"Okay," Freddie murmured, pulling his hand back. The car door slammed shut. 

The taxi driver was talking to him, turned around in the front seat. Asking him how he was feeling, apologising profusely over the steady rhythmical clicking of the hazard lights and then again, an accusatory tone. 'Can't just run out into the road like that! Didn't see you coming! It's damn lucky I wasn't going any faster!' Freddie managed a few words in response, returning mumbled apologies. What was he like? What a complete idiot he'd made out of himself, walking straight into traffic. His shirt clung to his elbow as though it was soaked. His fingers ghosted over torn fabric, and came away wet with blood. _Oh._

The car door opened on the other side, letting in a rush of cool air, the noise of traffic and Brian, out of breath, dropping into the seat beside him, still holding Freddie's coat.

"Let's go." 

"No hospital." Freddie tried again. 

"You're bleeding." Brian scooted closer to him, lifted a hand to brush the hair away from his face, brows knotted in a frown. "You-" 

Freddie jerked away from him, reaching up to touch his forehead, just below his hairline. It stung and his head throbbed. "I'm alright, it's just scrapes."

"Do you feel nauseous?" 

"No." Just sore, shaky and really fucking embarrassed. 

"I'll get you there in five," the taxi driver announced as the car pulled away and Freddie gave up arguing. The prospect of cleaning himself up at the hotel with Brian there was worse than a trip to the hospital, he supposed, thinking about _why_ he'd run out into the road. About everything that had happened just before. He could feel Brian looking at him but kept his head low, cradling his arm. 

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," Brian said quietly, as though reading his mind. He sounded genuinely upset. "I'm really very sorry." 

Freddie didn't have it in him to reply and turned to look out of the window instead, squinting at the bright lights flashing by. He couldn't figure out what he felt, and his elbow was really starting to ache now. Shame, he'd quite liked this shirt. 

The cab pulled up at the hospital, the driver refusing payment, of course. He seemed infinitely relieved, perhaps because no one was threatening to sue him, Freddie thought, and reluctantly accepted Brian's help getting out of the car. 

The inside of the hospital was too bright and busy, light greens and browns and cold, white light. Presswood and plastic and glass. Forms to fill out and a pad of gauze, handed to him provisionally. They sat down and Freddie couldn't get comfortable. There was a twinge in his back, his thigh and hip felt bruised. All he could think was what he’d have to wear at work to cover up, if the bruises were too ugly. Would the fishnets distract from them them enough?

"What… What's your full name?" Brian asked cautiously, glancing up at him from the clipboard. Wanting nothing more than to take it off him, Freddie looked at the clipboard, looked down at his right arm, the gauze pressed to his elbow, and sighed. 

"Frederick." 

There was a pause. 

"...Last name?"

Fuck’s sake.

"Mercury," he murmured quietly, and felt the other man stare at him. 

"That's your last name? Your _actual_ last name?" 

" _Yes_. Do you need me to spell it for you?" Freddie snapped. 

"No." Brian did not dare say anything more about it, and Freddie did not look at him, frowning at the empty seats across from him instead while he answered the other questions. Date of birth, nationality, pre-existing conditions and allergies. Bloody marvellous, now Brian knew every last detail about his person. Not that there was much to know, at least. Freddie wasn't deathly allergic to anything and various suspected - though never properly diagnosed - mental health issues were hardly pre-existing conditions. 

"Alright," said Brian, once he returned from the front desk, having handed in the form. "I hope it won't take long. How do you feel?" 

"Fine." Freddie told him, shifting in his chair. There were several people around them who looked like they needed medical attention far more than he did. This was such a waste of time.

"How's your elbow?" 

"It's stopped bleeding, I think." Freddie checked, wincing a little at the way the gauze peeled off the wound. 

"You should roll up your sleeve." Brian suggested gently. "I'll just… Can I?" 

With an irritated sniff, Freddie straightened his arm a little and didn't protest when Brian unbuttoned his cuff and carefully moved the sleeve up, rolling it over a few times. He did so with the utmost care, and for the first time since the accident, Freddie took a moment to really look at him. The expression on his face was desolate, guilt-stricken through and through. There was not a glimmer of the angry man who had spoken to him so coldly at the restaurant, but Freddie hadn't forgotten, and eyed him warily. 

"There." Brian rolled the sleeve over one more time, just above his elbow, and gazed down at the pale inside of Freddie's forearm. "I'm really sorry." He swallowed, raising his eyes up slowly.

Freddie gave a little shrug, folding his arm against himself again. "You didn't _push_ me into the road."

"No, but I… I upset you. And you had every right to be upset. I’m sorry."

"Hm." Freddie turned away. The truth was that he had already begun to forgive Brian, but he could not be so pathetic. So weak, to give in at the first hint of tenderness.

"I was in a terrible mood and I let it out on you." Beside him, Brian leaned forward and put his hand in his hands with a deep sigh. "None of this is fair to you, I should have never asked you to come. I see that now. It was extremely bad judgement on my part."

Freddie felt like speaking up in protest, if only to be contrary. But he held his tongue and watched Brian out of the corner of his eye. A part of him was adamant that he ought to stay upset. A part of him _was_ still upset. And yet-

And yet. Another part wanted to lay a hand on Brian's shoulder and ask him what was wrong. What had happened today and what it was that had upset him so. Because Freddie was as proud as he was easily wounded, but at the same time he was just as easily swayed into whole-hearted empathy by the misery of another. 

"Why did you?" he asked instead, after a moment. 

"What?" Brian looked up at him through his fingers. 

"Why did you ask me to come?" 

Breathing another deep sigh, Brian leaned back in his chair again and looked around the waiting room for some time, as though to gather his thoughts. 

"I…" he said slowly, and faltered. "Have you ever felt trapped? So trapped in a situation that there was no way out? _None._ Nothing you could do short of-" He broke off. "I think, I… I just wanted someone close to me who wasn't part of any of… that. Someone to remind me that there's still," he laughed at himself then, a truly mirthless laugh, and it pulled at Freddie's heartstrings. "That there's still something else… to life. Good things, you know? Things worth laughing about and, and fighting for, as idiotic as that sounds. That it isn't all completely and utterly... hopeless." He raised a hand to his lips, rubbing at his face, and cleared his throat. "Gosh, I'm sorry, you must think I'm a nutter." 

"Well," Freddie smiled weakly, regarding him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Sometimes the only appropriate response to reality is madness.”

There was a spark of surprise in Brian’s eyes as he turned to face Freddie properly. “Something like that, yeah.” He smiled back. “Philip K. Dick.”

Freddie tried to look as though he knew perfectly well who that was and had known all along. The name rang a bell, but Freddie was very good at remembering words and very bad at recalling who had said them. He had a knack, he thought, for making himself sound so much more well-read and intelligent than he was. It was one of his best traits.

“You’re so…” Brian was still looking at him and shook his head, searching for the right words. “I know it sounds terribly cliché, but you’re not like everyone else, are you?”

Freddie’s smile widened and he pulled his lips over his teeth. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” said Brian solemnly. “You… I’m _curious_ about you. I haven’t felt that way about anyone. Not in a very long time.”

“That makes two of us.” Freddie replied, and meant it, wondering if Brian knew just how many questions he had. But it all suddenly felt too intimate and intense for a hospital waiting room, and so he quirked an eyebrow and scrambled for a joke. “I’m curious about me all the time, dear. I just ran out in front of a car, God knows what I’ll do next!”

Brian chuckled. And there he was, Freddie thought, the same man he had met the night before. Rainbow socks and toothy smiles. Impossible to shake hands with. Maybe he could forgive what had happened earlier at the restaurant? God knew he could be a right prat sometimes, too, when he was in a bad mood.

“So.” Tilting his head to the side, Brian raised his eyebrows. “What _did_ you get up to today?”

Freddie narrowed his eyes at him a little.

“Really!” Brian gave another laugh, holding a hand up defensively. “I want to know. Let me live vicariously through you. I’ve been stuck in a long string of very frustrating meetings.”

And so Freddie drew a deep breath, and told him. Although he only mentioned Joe in passing, of course. Just as he had only mentioned Brian in passing to Joe. 

Before long, they had gone off on a tangent, talking about American culture and mentality, queer culture and history (Brian turned out to be surprisingly knowledgeable on the subject - or perhaps it was no surprise at all, because he seemed knowledgable when it came to just about everything) and, strangely enough, arrived at a keen discussion about the story of Alice in Wonderland. 

Finally, Freddie was called into the examination room over the speaker system. 

For all the waiting around beforehand, they were free to leave not five minutes after that.

“You see, I told you I was fine.” Freddie waved a hand - the one that didn't hurt - on his way out through the sliding doors of the hospital, Brian walking beside him. There was a large plaster on his elbow, antiseptic on his forehead and the doctor had congratulated him on a lucky escape, saying it didn’t look as though he had suffered a concussion, but to watch out for signs anyway. There had also been a ridiculously high bill to pay, and Freddie had refused to let Brian foot it. In a way, it was still Brian’s money he was using to cover it either way, but he had no desire to feel as though he owed the man more than he already did. 

“Oh no.” As Freddie put on his coat, his hand flew up to his neck, feeling along the scarf tied there. “My headphones!”

“Oh…” Brian looked back over his shoulder, but Freddie knew he hadn’t had them in the waiting room, either.

“Shit.” He stopped halfway down the stairs, realising they must have been either left behind on the road where he had fallen or in the taxi.

"I'm sorry, I'll get you a new pair tomorrow," Brian offered. 

"No, it's fine…" Freddie shook his head with a sigh. "I can buy my own, it's just, they were very nice and… a present from a good friend." Who, Freddie had just realised, was going to hit the roof when he told him what had happened tonight. 

Maybe he had better keep this particular adventure to himself until he was back in London, or else Roger would spend the rest of the week worrying about him needlessly. 

"You must have a lot of friends," said Brian as they approached the road. 

Freddie couldn't help but laugh. "What makes you say that?" 

"Am I wrong?" the other man asked, rather than answering the question. 

"Well," Freddie thought about it, while Brian raised his hand to hail a cab which was parked only a short way away. "I suppose I do." 'But only few who know me as well as Roger does. If any,' he added in his mind, and looked at Brian. "Don't you?" 

"No." The taller man said simply as the cab pulled up. "You tend to lose friends when you don't find time for them." 

Once they'd climbed into the cab, Brian gave the driver the address of the hotel and then threw Freddie a questioning look. "I'm sorry, did you want to go somewhere else?" 

"I don't mind." Freddie replied, and then: "No, the hotel is fine. Could we order room service, do you think?" 

"Yes, of course! I'm starving." 

\- - - 

While Brian ordered a chicken caesar salad, a vegetarian lasagne and a bottle of white wine from the room service menu, Freddie went to change out of his torn, bloodied shirt. God, but he had been lucky to get away so unscathed. The very thought of what might have happened frightened him, in hindsight. 

He returned to the living room barefoot and wearing a red t-shirt with an adorable cartoon otter on the front. It was wearing a sailor hat. Brian, who had also changed, into a pair of jeans and his burgundy jumper, eyed it with interest when Freddie sat down on the sofa beside him. 

"Do you like my shirt?" Freddie smirked. 

"I do. I like otters." Brian replied cheerfully, and Freddie had to bite his tongue because it was evident that there was not a smidgen of double entendre in those words.

"Really?" he said lightly, and just couldn't resist adding: "I quite like bears, myself. Although I suppose there’s an exception to every rule..."

"Oh, here’s something interesting. Did you know,” Brian raised an index finger, “that Koala bears are not actually bears?" 

He looked a little confused when Freddie burst into giggles.

\- - - 

“So.” What remained of their food was on the coffee table and a second episode of Star Trek had just started, although they had both seen it before and were too tired to feel particularly invested in it. Brian had lowered the volume, a little while ago. 

They had just finished discussing the idea of holodecks and why in the world they hadn’t been invented yet. 

"At the end of the day," Freddie said, twirling the stem of the wine glass between his fingers as he reclined on the sofa, "it might be the downfall of civilisation. What would prevent you from spending your entire life just living out a fantasy where everything is just the way you like it?" 

"I suppose that is the danger of virtual reality," Brian agreed. "We do seem to be moving in that direction..."

"Scary." 

"Quite." 

Freddie watched the USS Enterprise sail through space for a moment. “Brian."

"Yes?"

"May I ask you something?”

Head resting on the back of the sofa, Brian rolled it to the side to look at him. “You may. But I can’t promise that I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough.” Freddie took a sip of his wine. “If you hate your job so much,” he said cautiously, giving the other man a chance to shut him down, but Brian remained silent. “Why don’t you just quit? I mean, I suppose I can understand not wanting to lose all this…” He indicating the suite, glass in hand. “But what is it all worth if it doesn’t make you happy?”

The look on Brian’s face was unreadable, and for some time, he simply held Freddie’s gaze, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I _am_ going to… to quit.” He finally replied, and sat up a little, looking down into his own wine glass with a frown. “That is the plan.”

“Oh, well. Good for you, dear.” Freddie leaned forward and clinked their glasses together, and Brian gave him a brief smile, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So what’s next?” Freddie wanted to know. “Any exciting plans?”

At that, Brian did turn away, taking a large gulp of his wine. Although he hadn’t averted his eyes quickly enough for Freddie to miss the sorrow in them. 

“Who knows,” he murmured towards the windows. Before Freddie could press the matter further, he quickly followed it up with: “Can I ask _you_ something?” 

“You may.” Freddie shifted a little and winced. He felt as bruised as he probably was, he hadn’t yet dared to take off his jeans and look.

When Brian turned back to him, the melancholy in his gaze was gone. “Freddie… _Mercury_?” he asked, raising his eyebrows with a little smirk.

Freddie broke into an abashed smile and rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think it has a nice ring to it?”

“Well… yes. I suppose it does, at that.” Brian conceded. “Very… grand.”

“I thought so.” Freddie tapped his middle finger against the wine glass rhythmically and took another small sip. “I had it changed legally when I was nineteen. Call it an act of rebellion.”

Brian said nothing, just leaned his head on his hand. And so Freddie continued.

“It was a name I… a stage name, if you will, that I came up with back in school. I started a band when I was twelve,” he chuckled. “Well, the name didn’t occur to me until later. But… I suppose I wanted to be a star, and I felt that I needed a worthy name to go with it.”

“What’s your real name?” Brian asked, and Freddie’s eyes flicked back to him.

“Freddie Mercury _is_ my real name,” he said firmly, almost somewhat affronted. 

“I’m sorry,” Brian just continued to look at him with his inquisitive eyes. “What was your birth name? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Freddie turned back to the tv. A redshirt had just been shot. “Farrokh Bulsara.”

“That has a good ring to it, too-” 

“No, it doesn’t. Anyway.” He sighed and took another gulp of wine. “When I was nineteen… I came out to my parents.”

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

“And my father,” Freddie gave a dry laugh. “My father decided he no longer had a son. And that was… that was one reason, I suppose. It felt like a good moment to leave certain things behind.”

There was a moment of silence, filled only the muted voices and incidental music playing on the tv. 

“I’m sorry,” Brian said quietly. “That’s awful.”

Freddie gave a little shrug. “He’s come around a little since. Well... I suppose he realised there was nothing he could do about it. We talk.”

“What about your mother?” 

“She cried a lot.” Freddie snorted. “Really, darling, it’s been almost a decade, it’s all in the past now… not worth dwelling on.” With that, he finished his glass and leaned forward to pick up the bottle, pouring himself the last little bit of wine.

“When did you figure it out?” Brian asked, taking a small sip from his own glass. “For yourself, I mean.”

“What, that I was gay?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God,” Freddie laughed. “Primary school!” he said, and then pursed his lips over his teeth, reconsidering his reply. “Well, no, that isn’t quite true... I was in denial for some time. I went out with a few girls, thought I was bi...” He waved a hand. “Anyway, it was bloody obvious all along, really.” Brian chuckled and Freddie raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”

“Erm.” The caught-out, flustered smile on Brian’s face was altogether too adorable. “I… I’m not sure… What’s the question?”

Now it was Freddie who couldn’t help but grin. “When did you realise you fancy boys?” he asked boldly, just to see what sort of reaction he might get, half expecting ‘I don’t’ in response. 

Brian rubbed his face, still grinning, cheeks a little pink. “Um… Friday night?” he uttered, shooting Freddie a look that left him momentarily breathless, before he caught himself.

“Oh- oh my, well, I’m flattered-”

“No, no.” Brian laughed, shaking his head. “I sort of, um. I’ve kissed a boy once, actually.”

“Just once?” Freddie was giggling now, he couldn’t help it.

“Just the once, I’m afraid!” Brian shrugged helplessly. “I was a little hopeless as a teenager, there really wasn’t a lot of kissing… or anything else, for that matter. And then...” He grew a little more serious as he continued. “I met a girl when I was eighteen. And that was that. We were going to get married.”

“I see,” said Freddie. “I gather you didn’t?”

“No,” Brian shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes. “She was… oh, I don’t know. We’d met very young and people grow and, and change, I suppose. And maybe I prioritised other things when I should have prioritised her. Or maybe it was just never going to work out...” He shook his head. “Who knows. We split up a year ago.”

“That’s a long time…” Freddie narrowed his eyes at Brian a little. “I’m sorry, how old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” Brian told him.

“So we _are_ the same age.” Freddie gave the other man’s thigh a tap for emphasis. “I was wondering.”

“Why, how old are you?”

“Darling!” Freddie exclaimed. “You wrote down my date of birth just a few hours ago!”

Brian dropped his head against the backrest again. “Yes, but I didn’t _memorise_ it.”

“Twenty-seven,” Freddie informed him, sipping his wine. “Anyway, you were with her for seven years. That’s an awfully long time.”

“I suppose.”

“Of _course_ it is. I’ve not been with anyone longer than a couple of years.” A part of him was still caught up on what Brian had said before he had told him about his ex-fiancée. About Friday night. Now, wasn’t that interesting? “Do you miss her?” he asked, even though that wasn’t what he really wanted to know.

Brian shook his head slowly. “Not anymore, no.” His eyes wandered back to Freddie, a smile on his lips. “Freddie Mercury.”

“Don’t wear it out.” Freddie smirked.

“Whatever happened to being a star?”

“I gave it my best shot.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t enough.” And no matter how much time passed, that thought - that reality - would never stop being a sore point. Like a wound that refused to heal. Brian opened his mouth to say something, but when Freddie grimaced as he leaned forward, setting the glass down on the coffee table, the other man frowned with concern instead.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Oh, nothing, just…” Freddie chuckled. “I feel a bit like I’ve been run over by a car, funnily enough.”

“Gosh, we shouldn’t be sitting up late drinking.” Brian straightened up immediately, putting his own glass aside. “We should get you to bed.”

Freddie argued that he was fine, just a little bruised, but Brian’s concern was very sweet and he _was_ very tired and pleasantly relaxed after two large glasses of wine. He tried to offer Brian his own bed back, but he wouldn’t hear of it - frankly, the bed was so large that Freddie half considered suggesting they share it. However, by the time he had inspected his bruised thigh and knees while changing into his pyjamas, Brian had already arranged his make-shift bed on the sofa.

“I’ll try to be quiet in the morning,” he told him, looking up at Freddie, who was standing in the doorway of the living room.

Freddie shook his head with a smile. “Not to worry. Come through whenever you need to.”

“Wake me up,” Brian took a step closer. “If you don’t feel well, I mean. During the night. Won’t you?”

“I’m sure I’ll sleep like a rock.” Freddie assured him.

“Okay.” Brian hesitated, and so Freddie did too, although he didn’t know what he was waiting for. “Freddie…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.” Brian said quietly, walking forward until they were standing right in front of each other. Freddie tilted his head back, looking up at the taller man.

“I know.” 

And then, because Brian still stood there, gazing at him with his remorseful puppy-dog eyes, and because Freddie was a little tipsy, which rarely aided his impulse-control, he took another half-step closer and lay a hand on Brian’s arm. 

And lifted himself up on the tips of his toes. 

Brian instinctively lowered his head, turning it a little as though he half expected to have a secret whispered into his ear. 

“You’re forgiven,” Freddie uttered, pressing his lips to the other man’s cheek.

They locked eyes for a second as Freddie pulled away, a lingering gaze that made his heart stutter a little.

“Good night,” said Freddie.

“Yes. Good night,” said Brian, with a look in his eyes almost like wonder. 

Freddie nodded, turned his back to him and broke into an enormous grin. It wouldn’t leave his face all the way to the bedroom. Not even when he closed his eyes, replaying parts of the evening in his mind.

_’When did you realise you fancy boys?’_

_’...Friday night?’_

Freddie pulled the duvet up to his chin and turned to his side - the one which wasn't quite so sore - smiling into the pillow for a long time before he slowly drifted off to sleep.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I didn't leave you to suffer long after the cliffhanger. You're welcome. ;)


	8. Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back just in time for Maycury Week 2020 with another instalment of this! A very long chapter, actually. I hope you like it! ☺️
> 
> Soundtrack: Plain White T's - Hey There Delilah

\- - -

Freddie stirred with a groan and lifted a heavy hand to feel for his mobile on the bedside table. As he straightened his arm, a shooting pain immediately reminded him of the previous night's events and he hissed, slowing the movement and gingerly picking up the phone.

10:21AM - the screen informed him.

Freddie squinted at it. Oh gosh. Had he really slept through the whole morning and not even heard Brian leave for work?

Several parts of his body protested as he sat up with a groan. Last night he had felt sore. Now he felt stiff as a board and veritably broken. Lying back down carefully, he decided there was no point in rushing to get up now and instead held the phone up beside his face.

"Alissa, what's the weather like?"

“Right now in New York City, there is a heavy cloud cover with a temperature of 13 degrees Celsius. Today’s forecast is cloudy, with a chance of rain-"

“Thank you.” Freddie interrupted the AI, silencing it, and gave a little shudder. The great outdoors didn't sound very inviting. He turned to look at the screen, which lit up and unlocked on eye contact.

The first thing he noticed was a message from Brian.

A warm tingling in his chest, Freddie bit his lip as he opened it and read it a few times over, even though it was only short. Brian was wishing him a nice day and promising to let him know soon what time they would be meeting up later. Freddie replied, wishing him a bearable day at work in return. He considered adding that he looked forward to tonight, whatever the plan might be, but deleted the message instead of sending it.

There were also a few messages from Roger, the latest notably concerned because Freddie had neglected to write to him last night. Smiling to himself, Freddie quickly assured his best friend that he was fine and that he'd had an exciting night. That much was not entirely untrue, he supposed.

Then he proceeded to ignore a voice message from his mother, trying to make a mental note to listen to it later. Instead, he replied to a message from Joe, confirming that they were, in fact, still on for this afternoon at the Statue of Liberty. Which had an awful lot of stairs to climb. That would be _fun_ , given the state of him today, Freddie thought, breathing a tortured sigh.

It was almost half past eleven when he finally dragged himself out of bed, only to discover that it was now raining outside. Well then, that was definitely reason enough not to leave the hotel for the moment.

After he'd ordered himself tea and a bite to eat, Freddie finally sat down at the grand piano in the living room which had been calling out to him since the first moment he had entered the room. Oh, he was so dreadfully out of practice, but there was no one to hear him muck it up. Before long, he was lost in it, muscle memory carrying him through pieces of music he had learned so long ago they felt like second nature until his mind took flight and left those trodden paths, lazily creating something yet undefined and new. Or else, perhaps something never yet finished that he had abandoned long ago, and still it was all there, in the far recesses of his mind. Just waiting to be perfected.

He smiled as he felt himself relax into it, fingers growing more secure and bolder in their dance across the keys. He was starting to hum a melody, mouthing the odd word to a song he'd been working on, once. Before the band had broken up. Before he'd spent the better part of a year in a state of grey apathy that wouldn't lift. Not unless he was out and off his head on whatever he could afford that weekend. Whatever was on offer.

The knock on the door startled him out of his musical reverie.

"Room service!"

\- - -

The Earl Grey wasn't completely dreadful but didn't taste quite right. Freddie checked his phone again while he had breakfast, admittedly hoping to see a message from Brian. There was nothing, however, so he chatted to Roger for a bit instead, who was busy getting ready for his second date with Dom.

_I have to run now, Joe and I have a date with the Statue of Liberty_

_Threesome. Nice. ;)_

_Haha  
I don't think she'll put out, I hear she's an old prude_

_What about Joe_  
👀😏

Freddie rolled his eyes.

_Worry about your own love life, darling  
Talk later xx_

It was still horrid outside when he put his phone away. Freddie ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to feel a bit grubby.

Another bath seemed like a superb idea. After all, having a shower would just be a waste of a magnificent bathtub, and besides, it might help relax his stiff muscles.

Not fifteen minutes later, Freddie had run himself a bath with enough bubbles to all but smother him completely once he'd sat down inside it. His injured arm was resting on the side of the tub and his phone was on full volume, playing the New York playlist. Inevitably, Freddie found himself singing along to it after a little while.

The bathroom had brilliant acoustics. Taylor Swift's 'Welcome to New York' had just finished, and as Liza Minelli began to sing the ultimate classic, 'New York, New York', Freddie couldn't help but perform it alongside her with abandon, spraying bits of foam around him as he flung an arm up here and kicked a leg out there.

" _These vagabond shoes… they’re longing to stray… right through the very heart of it!_ " he sang, stretching his leg up high, toes pointed, head tilted back and one arm in the air. “ _New York, New York!_ ”

It wasn't until he became aware of movement in his peripheral vision that he stopped with a gasp and lowered his leg so quickly that water splashed outside the tub. Sitting up with a start, Freddie turned around and felt his heart miss a beat from surprise and the sheer embarrassment of being caught unaware like this.

"So sorry.” There stood Brian, half-hidden behind the door which Freddie had left ajar. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright.” He lowered his eyes, a warm, if self-conscious, smile on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Freddie stared at him, eyes wide, then looked at his phone. "Alissa, pause the music."

The AI complied with a muted double beep.

"I just," Brian looked around the room as though the sinks and the light fixtures had suddenly become immensely fascinating, "I had a long lunch break… and I came in and heard you."

"I thought I was alone," Freddie murmured, almost apologetically, and reclined in the tub again, sinking a little lower. He had few hang ups about nudity, as long as it was on his own terms. Luckily the bubbles were plenty and hid him from view almost entirely.

“I’m sorry.” Brian repeated with an abashed smile, bowing his head. “I’ll... let you get on with it. Would you like me to order you something for lunch?”

“No, thank you, I had breakfast late.” Freddie declined politely, breaking into a small smile now that he was over the shock of being walked in on like this. “I’ll be out in just a moment.”

“Yes, don’t worry.” Brian turned to go and hesitated, throwing him another glance. This time, it lingered, briefly following the line of Freddie’s bare shoulder and arm. An innocent glance, and yet it sent a small shiver down Freddie's spine. He tilted his chin up, drawing his shoulders back a little. “By the way,” Brian added, quite earnestly. “you have a beautiful voice.”

"Thank you," Freddie replied quietly, and was glad when Brian disappeared behind the door because he could no longer hold back the grin fighting its way onto his face. Exhaling a breath, Freddie squeezed his eyes shut, closed his nose with one hand, and slipped under the surface of the water.

\- - -

When he entered the living room some fifteen minutes later, fully dressed and towelling off his damp hair, Brian was sitting in the armchair close to the windows, one leg crossed over the other, frowning deeply at the tablet in his hands. Freddie still couldn’t quite make up his mind what he preferred on him. This sleek city boy look with the messy bun and short beard, giving him an almost editorial, model-esque appearance, reminding Freddie of a GQ magazine cover. It was undeniably quite attractive. It made Freddie want to walk up to him and pull him close by his tie. But then again, decidedly less fashionable, quirky Brian with his wild curls was also quite irresistible in his own way...

And Freddie was fully aware that he was getting way, way ahead of himself, but already his imagination was tentatively drawing up fantasies of fancy, romantic dinners back in London and lazy Sunday mornings on the sofa. Thoughts of hurriedly unbuttoned dress shirts at night and of borrowed jumpers which would be too big on him in the morning.

Oh, he really was a hopeless romantic, he admonished himself, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. But he couldn’t help it when Brian’s face lit up the way it did, the moment he looked at him.

“Hello again,” Freddie said, a lot more smoothly than anything that had come out of his mouth in the bathroom.

“Hi.” Brian tilted his head to the side with a toothy smile and switched off the screen of his tablet, blindly putting it aside on top of his briefcase beside the chair.

“Don’t let me interrupt you.” Freddie wandered over to the windows and stopped beside him. It was still grey outside, but at least it looked as though the rain had stopped.

“No, please. Please do.” Brian sighed. “Interrupt me. Distractions are more than welcome.”

“Well, in that case,” Looking out over Central Park, Freddie gave him a warm, sideways glance. “I’ll do what I can. How much time do you have?”

Brian checked his smartwatch. “Er… about an hour.”

That was just as well, Freddie thought, because if he wanted to meet Joe on time he would have to leave in an hour or so, perhaps a little later if he took a taxi. And while he was sure Brian would have told him to go either way, it didn’t feel right not to prioritise him when Brian was the reason he was here.

“Did you sleep alright? How’s your elbows?” The other man asked, sitting up in his chair and looking Freddie over as though he would be able to see the bruises and the scrapes through his clothes.

“I’m fine.” Freddie put the towel around his neck and went to sit on the piano bench, as it was closest to the armchair. “A bit sore,” he admitted, pulling a face. Brian’s eyes flicked to the scrape on his forehead, not currently very well concealed by his fringe as it clung together in damp strands. “It looks worse than it is today,” Freddie assured him, and gave a confident waggle of his eyebrows: “And I’m tougher than I look, so you needn’t worry, dear.”

“I wasn’t trying to suggest otherwise.” Brian said, and nodded at the piano. “Have you been playing?”

It was only then that Freddie realised the fallboard was still open, and quickly moved to lower it. “No, I… well, yes, just a little. This morning.” He leaned onto it as soon as he'd shut it - carefully, with his injured arm - and quickly changed the subject before Brian could get any ideas about asking him to play. “Are you finishing late tonight?”

“No, as a matter of fact.” Brian shook his head, looking quite relieved. “I hope I’ll be done as early as six. Will you be out?”

“I… might be, I suppose. But I can come back here-”

“No, no. Let’s meet in Lower Manhattan. Soho, if that’s alright? Canal Street station.”

“Of course. Where are we going?”

Brian tucked a stray curl behind his ear, a small smirk on his lips. “It’s… there’s a shop I’d quite like to visit, if I’m honest. It’s a little self-indulgent, perhaps, but also,” he continued, before Freddie could ask what sort of shop it was, “do you like Asian food?”

“Love it.” Freddie nodded enthusiastically, and Brian’s smile widened.

“Fantastic. Then I know just the place.”

\- - -

The weather gods were kindly disposed after all, and the skies cleared a little just as Freddie and Joe reached Liberty Island on the ferry from Battery Park. His ailments momentarily forgotten, Freddie enjoyed the walk up to one of the world's most famous landmarks, genuinely having a good time in Joe's company as they chatted away and posed for pictures along the way.

The climb up to the viewing platform was a slightly different story, but Freddie was determined not to let a bit of discomfort spoil it for him.

Once they had reached the crown, the view was absolutely breathtaking.

"Unreal," Freddie murmured a few times over with a little shake of his head and a grin, and Joe laughed at him, but in a very sweet way. They peered out in all directions, took another dozen or so pictures and just hung out at that dizzying height for a little bit, soaking in the vastness of the ocean and the skyline in the distance, before they finally headed back down.

Even though Freddie's legs did not thank him for the adventure, it had been absolutely worth it.

"You okay there?" Joe asked, watching him limp out into the open air again once they had reached the bottom.

"Yes," Freddie sighed, waving a hand in his direction dismissively. He'd managed to arrange his fringe in a way that evidently hid the scrape on his forehead well enough, thus avoiding any mention of his misadventure until now. "Yes, not to worry, I just… last night took a bit of an unfortunate turn."

"What do you mean?"

"Well." Freddie smiled a little, glancing over at his new American friend, and decided to tell him the whole story after all. "Shall we sit down for a bit?"

They descended from the foundation of the Statue of Liberty and found a low wall, where Freddie could stretch out his legs as he told Joe what had happened, leaving out the reason why he had decided to cross the road so abruptly. It didn't seem important in the grand scheme of things. Really, looking back, he had clearly overreacted and was rather embarrassed about it now. It was just like him, to make a fuss over what amounted to nothing.

"Damn." Joe was looking at him as if he was half afraid the tale would have a tragic ending, even though Freddie was sitting right in front of him, clearly fine. "Damn, I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"It's alright," Freddie chuckled, tugging at a strand of his hair. "I'm fine, really."

Joe narrowed his eyes a little, scrutinising him. "Is that what happened?" he asked, and lifted a hand, carefully brushing Freddie's fringe back from his forehead. "Here?"

The touch felt unexpectedly intimate and Freddie almost shrank back, but didn't. It also felt nice. Gentle. "Yes," he said, and lowered his eyes, smiling a little. "And here I thought I was doing such a good job, covering it up."

Joe dropped his hand, fingers grazing the back of Freddie's shoulder on the way down. "I didn't wanna be rude."

It didn't escape Freddie's attention, in the moment of silence which followed, that Joe scooted a little closer, his hand firmly planted on the wall behind Freddie's back. As Freddie lifted his eyes again, they caught on Joe's lips briefly on their way back up. There were people milling about on the walkway in front of them, but no one was terribly close. Freddie felt a little warmer, all of a sudden. Heart beating a little faster. While he hadn't exactly been holding out hope for it, this wasn't a surprising development. There had been a little spark between them from the moment they'd met. All of yesterday, as well as these last couple of hours, had been ripe with playful flirtation.

"So… we gotta make the best of what's left of your vacation. Right?" Joe leaned a little closer, the hint of a smile on his lips. His soft, blue eyes held Freddie's gaze, almost unwavering, safe for a glance at his mouth. "To make up for all that," he added quietly.

Freddie wet his lips.

"Yeah," he agreed, tilting his chin up a little. All of this couldn't have been more perfect - Joe was cute _and_ great company, the ideal holiday fling really - if it hadn't been for that niggling feeling at the back of Freddie's mind.

The thought of last night. The thought of Brian.

However, when Joe moved forward, closing the remaining distance between them, Freddie paid those thoughts no mind and leaned into the kiss. It was a little uncoordinated, at first, a little over-enthusiastic on Joe's end as he lay a hand on Freddie's cheek, sliding his tongue deeper into his mouth. Still, it was nice. More than nice - and yet, Freddie just couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't... right. That he _shouldn't_. Which was ridiculous, surely. He was as unattached as a bird in flight. It wasn't as though he and Brian were - well - _anything_.

And yet...

Freddie pulled back a little and turned aside, breaking the kiss. Joe pulled his hand away, an uncertain look in his eyes when Freddie looked up at him.

"Uhm," Freddie pulled his lips over his teeth and Joe sighed, turning away with an abashed smile.

"Did I misjudge that?"

"No, it's…" Freddie scratched the tip of his nose, glancing around at the groups of tourists wandering around and the water beyond. A man in sunglasses taking pictures of the statue behind them. "You know the, um... the friend I'm staying with…"

"Ah."

"Mmh." Freddie bit back an awkward smile of his own and gave the American a sideways glance. "I'm sorry, darling. It's not you."

Joe chuckled at the age-old phrase, rubbing the back of his head. "Shame." He nodded to himself, and met Freddie's eyes. "I like you."

"I like you, too." Freddie nudged him with his shoulder gently, a grin on his face. "That was very nice, by the way. I really am sorry."

Joe sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a friendly squeeze. “It’s all good.”

The wind had picked up, chasing the clouds across the sky. Leaning against Joe's shoulder lightly for a moment, Freddie was in two minds.

On the one hand, what in the world had got into him? He'd known himself to be less faithful to actual boyfriends, let alone a man he'd barely even flirted with. And here was Joe, such a sweet thing, really, wasn't he? A part of Freddie couldn't help but think that he'd regret turning him down the moment they parted ways. The idea of Joe was appealing, right now.

On the other hand, it wasn't so simple. After all, he was only here on Brian's invitation. In a way, Freddie still very much felt that he owed him. Which was not something he liked to think about, because it put him on edge and tainted the fact that he was also, genuinely, developing very tender feelings towards Brian. He didn't want to be kissing Joe, the thought of Brian on his mind. Nor did he want to be kissing Brian tonight, and remembering Joe.

Freddie blinked. Well - not that he and Brian were necessarily going to- Then again, perhaps? Things were certainly headed in that direction, weren't they?

Oh, it was all terribly confusing. He'd better not dwell on it too much.

"Shall we catch the ferry back?" Freddie straightened and started getting back up on his feet, grateful when Joe gave him a hand.

\- - -

Much as his new American friend had been as gracious about the rejection as he possibly could have been, their attempts at conversation became a little stilted, after that. A little forced. Freddie was regretful but relieved when Joe decided he had somewhere to be shortly after they got off the ferry. They waved each other goodbye and Freddie sighed, watching him walk away down the street, before he turned and headed for the nearest coffee shop.

It was what it was.

He reached up to his neck, meaning to put his headphones on, and his hands closed around nothing instead. The prospect of wandering around without music to listen to for an hour was not very appealing, but going back to the hotel only to then immediately leave again hardly seemed worth it. Instead, much as he would probably regret all the walking later tonight, Freddie left Battery Park and decided to slowly make his way up the Broadway, a long, wide street which led directly to Canal Street station. It was funny how everything was on a grid here, not a bend in the road in sight. It was both easier and harder to navigate.

A quick pit stop at Starbucks and an overpriced chai tea latte later, Freddie passed the time browsing the pictures he’d taken today, deleting the unfortunate ones. Then he finally listened to his mother’s long, rambling voice message. No, he wasn’t going to stop by for dinner this week. Maybe next week.

A message from Brian arrived at half past five, informing him that he wasn’t going to be able to make it until half past six. Annoyed that he _could_ have gone to the hotel after all, Freddie decided to nip into a bar and have a white wine spritzer while he waited.

Time passed quickly enough in the end, as he spent it layering the best photos of the last two days with Instagram filters. They looked too good not to share. And he didn’t quite remember anymore why exactly he was keeping this trip such a secret. Oh, that was right. Because of his arrangement with Brian.

But he was here now and he was _fine_ , so what was the harm?

 _Fuck it_ , Freddie thought, and posted the whole lot in a couple of batches.  
_#impromptutrip #flyingvisit #nyc #newyorkbitches #bigapplebaby #newfriends_

He grinned to himself, watching the first few likes and comments come in and knowing full well his friends would be blowing up his phone shortly, wondering why they hadn’t been informed. But it was almost half past six now, so he tucked his phone away and quickly downed the rest of his drink.

Brian was already waiting for him outside the station, his briefcase in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. They greeted each other with a quick hug, and Freddie found that any regret he’d harboured with regard to Joe was already forgotten. Sure, Joe was nice and handsome. But he didn’t make Freddie feel like this.

A little breathless, a little euphoric. The mere sight of Joe didn’t fill Freddie with the soft tingle of anticipation and excitement, from his chest down to the pit of his stomach.

“Sorry I’m late,” Brian told him. “Were you waiting long?”

“No, not at all."

Brian lifted the plastic bag, holding it out to him, and Freddie raised his eyebrows. “What’s this?”

“For you,” Brian said simply. “It’s the least I could do.”

Tilting his head to the side curiously, Freddie took the bag from him and looked inside. “Oh, no, you didn’t!” he exclaimed, looking back up at him, wide-eyed. “You really didn’t have to.”

Inside was a box containing a pair of Sennheiser retro style on-ear headphones.

“No. I did. Really.” Brian interrupted him before Freddie could protest again. “I wasn’t sure about the colour, but I thought yellow… like your coat. You can exchange them, of course, if you like.”

The anxious expression on Brian’s face was beyond adorable.

“Darling, they’re perfect,” Freddie beamed, and meant it, too. “Thank you so much,” he added, resisting the urge to peck him on the cheek.

The taller man breathed a sigh of relief, a grin on his face. “I’m glad you like them.”

“So,” Freddie glanced around, “where are we going?”

“Oh, well... are you starving?” Brian asked.

“Not yet, no.” Freddie chuckled.

“Alright. Then let’s go this way first.” With a nod, Brian took a step towards the next street corner and lifted his arm, lightly touching the small of Freddie’s back as though to escort him in that direction. It was such an old-fashioned, gentlemanly gesture, Freddie almost burst out laughing again. While he wasn’t a respectable young lady by any definition - in fact, he was neither respectable, nor particularly young, and most certainly not a lady - there was still something about this sort of treatment which felt quite nice. It occurred to him that it had been a couple of years since he had last been on a proper _date_ , as such. For the latter part of his last relationship, date nights had consisted of take away and Netflix, or if they did go out, inevitably it had all ended with arguments about who Freddie was or wasn’t ‘making eyes’ at.  
These days, his love life fell more along the lines of hook ups or a few drinks at the pub... not unlikely to be followed by a hook up.

But this, right here, felt different. He didn’t think that tonight would go as far as the bedroom, even though he certainly wouldn’t have had any objections. But Brian was-

Well, he was basically _a virgin_ , for one. Freddie smirked at the thought, wondering if he’d ever encountered one of those in an intimate setting. Not since high school, probably. It was both a little unnerving and a little exciting, thinking about that.

Freddie was still wondering how likely it was that Brian would succumb to a gay panic when the other man pointed to a sign hanging above the door of a shop just down the street.

“Here.”

“Rudy’s Music?” Freddie read out. “Ooh, is it a music shop?”

“A guitar shop.” Brian’s said, sounding somewhat reverential. “Now, I promise I won’t be long. You won’t have to drag me out, hopefully.” He chuckled. “But I love this place and I just wanted to stop by one last-” he broke off, stumbling over his words a little. “I mean, this- this one time.”

\- - -

Freddie was not a guitar enthusiast, but he did consider himself a musician - just about, still, on a good day - so the delight of a shop full of guitars of all shapes, sizes, makes and colours was not lost on him. However, far more interesting to behold than the instruments was the way Brian’s eyes lit up, and the excitement he was radiating as he admired them. He went through a few guitars (and a ukulele), some acoustic, some electric, telling Freddie about his own guitar back in London and how he had built it himself with his father back when he was a teenager. It was a shame, Freddie found himself thinking, that Brian, so evidently musically inclined, had ended up in a stuffy corporate environment which he clearly hated. But then again, did Freddie really have a leg to stand on, thinking that? What of himself? Would he not have been better off, trying to build an actual career rather than banking on his passion for music, and ending up with nothing at all?

Only Freddie couldn’t imagine doing anything but what he had done, couldn’t imagine working a soul-destroying office job, no matter the money.

Perhaps he’d be thinking differently, had he actually been qualified for a job like that. Perhaps he was the fool, and people like Brian, who were content to follow their passion as a hobby, had it all figured out.

All those contemplations faded into the background when Brian picked up a Fender Strat, the design on it swirls of blues and yellows, reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Freddie perched down on an amp across from him, absently playing around with the turquoise ukulele Brian had picked up earlier. They strummed a few chords together, exchanging smiles, and then Freddie stilled his hand as Brian began to play in earnest.

Even with the muted, tinny sound of an unplugged electric guitar, Freddie found himself completely captivated as he listened, watching Brian’s long, slender fingers expertly move across the frets. After a while, he raised his eyes up to his Brian's face. His eyes were half-closed in concentration, lips parted and slightly pursed. It seemed impossible to Freddie, all of a sudden, that he hadn’t noticed until now how truly _beautiful_ this man was. From the sharp angles of his face, so full of character, to his high brow, the Cupid’s bow of his lips and the curls escaping his loosely secured bun. Of course, it was always incredibly engaging to see someone do something they truly enjoyed. Freddie felt as though he could have easily sat here listening to Brian play for hours.

When a pair of warm, hazel eyes looked up at him, Freddie’s heart gave a little leap. He felt a blush creep into his cheeks.

“You’re very good,” he said, running his fingers along the edge of the ukulele in his hands, even though he had clean forgotten about its existence.

“Thank you.” Brian smiled, unguarded and relaxed. “I suppose we should…”

“Play me something else.” Freddie spoke over him.

Brian’s smile widened. “What would you like to hear?”

Glancing around the colourful guitars on the walls, Freddie thought about it and gave a little shrug. “Oh, I don’t know.... Something. Surprise me.”

Brian licked his lips, looking thoughtful.

“Alright. Maybe you know this one.” With that, he started playing a simple intro that alternated between - Freddie listened carefully, watching his fingers - D major and F sharp minor.

“Oh,” Freddie breathed after a moment, “oh, oh, that’s… God, what is it? It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

Instead of a reply, Brian started singing. “ _Hey there, Delilah, what's it like in New York city?”_

“Yes!” Freddie exclaimed with a delighted laugh.

“ _I'm a thousand miles away but, hey, tonight you look so pretty, yes, you do… Times Square can't shine as bright as you…_ ”

“ _I swear, it’s true…_ ,” Freddie joined in quietly.

They continued together, piecing the lyrics of the verses together as well as they could recall them.

" _...a thousand miles seems pretty far, but they've got planes, and trains and cars, I'd walk to you if I had no other way... Our friends will all make fun of us and we will only laugh because we know they've never ever felt this way..._ "

It wasn’t long before Freddie had left the melody to Brian and was harmonising with it, singing almost at full volume. He’d never been very good at holding back.

“ _Ooh, it's what you do to me… what you do to me... oooh, ooohh…_ ” Maybe they indulged a little, towards the end, holding each other’s eyes and grinning as they harmonised on the 'ohh's. They didn’t sound half bad, Freddie thought. Still, the small round of cheers and applause from the handful of people inside the shop once they finished took them both off guard.

They left the shop laughing, muttering thanks and apologising.

“I must say, that was very good fun.” Freddie linked his arm with Brian’s as they walked down the street, night rapidly falling alround them.

“It was,” Brian agreed, smiling down at him. “Right, shall we have a bite to eat?”

“Lead the way!”

\- - -

The way wasn’t long and led to Canal Street Market, an indoor Asian street food market. It was hard to decide between all the different delicacies, dumplings, spring rolls, baozi, stir fry and sushi. In the end, they sampled a little bit of everything over the course of a couple of hours, washing it down with a few bottles of Singha (a Thai lager Freddie had seen around, but never tried before).

"So, what was your first love?" Freddie asked, gesturing with his half empty bottle. "Music or… or _space_?"

Brian opened his mouth to say something and cut himself off with a laugh. "I don't think… well, I would have to say… music." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, music. I suppose."

"Hmm." Freddie tapped his fingers against the bottle. "Do you ever regret not pursuing it more?"

"Yes," Brian admitted, without hesitation. "I do. Especially now."

He looked down then, contemplating the last maki roll left on the paper plate between them.

Freddie decided to dig a little deeper. "What do you mean?"

"Just…" Brian shrugged, and as every so often, that preoccupied look darkened his face. It almost made Freddie regret that he'd asked. "My life could've been very different."

"Indeed," said Freddie, taking a swig from his bottle, and attempted to bring a bit of lightness back into their conversation. "You could have been piss poor, like me."

Brian looked up, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach the eyes. "Money doesn't… make you happy."

"I wouldn't know, dear, I've never had much of it."

"It was never the money I was after, you know."

"Then what?" Freddie asked, and the look on Brian's face prompted him to quickly add: "I believe you. But what was it you wanted to do?"

"I…" Brian sighed. "Just… make sense of things, I suppose. Discover something no one else had, solve the mysteries of the universe, I don't know… gain an understanding of what we are… and everything that surrounds us, in the grand scale of things."

"That's a tall order."

"Maybe so."

"And then?"

Brian gazed into the middle distance, a forlorn look in his eyes. "I found out more than I wanted to know."

"About the universe?" Freddie asked.

Brian shook his head. "No. About people."

 _Tell me_ , Freddie though, _won't you tell me what's really going on?_ But he didn't dare ask. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. Nor did he want Brian to disappear into that despondent state. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want to brush off what was clearly bothering him.

"We're dreadful, the lot of us," he curled a lock of hair around his finger, watching the other man curiously. "Aren't we."

Brian met his eyes and Freddie all but felt him return to the here and now, to this moment. To him. And it filled him with warmth.

"Not all of us," Brian said.

\- - -

They took a taxi back to the hotel, but as they got out and the car pulled away, Brian paused, looking towards the park on the other side of the road. Freddie followed his gaze.

"What is it?"

"Come on," Brian said simply, flashing him a smile, and nodded towards the closest pedestrian crossing. "There's something I've never done, in all the times I've been here," he explained as they crossed the road and walked towards the dark park.

"And what's that? Getting mugged in the park at night?" Freddie joked.

"No," Brian laughed, striding towards the entrance of Central Park. It was all he said, and mystified but intrigued, Freddie followed him.

"Where are we going?" he asked, after a minute or two, "Is it very far? My knees are killing me."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Brian stopped and turned to him, eyeing him with concern. "I'm so sorry, I hadn't thought…"

"It's alright, I'll live." Freddie shook his head, waving a dismissive hand. "But where _are_ we going?"

"I thought…" Brian looked a little embarrassed. "I've never been on one of those carriage rides either, you know. And you… you mentioned them earlier. Didn't you? I thought, well… why not?"

Freddie had, as a matter of fact, mentioned them earlier. Just in passing, talking about the typical New York things he'd imagined himself doing before he had arrived, versus the reality of the city. He looked back at Brian wordlessly. Had he really listened, _really_ listened to every single stupid thing Freddie had talked about tonight?

"Unless you don't want to," Brian added hesitantly.

"No, I- I do." Freddie broke into a wide smile, so wide he felt compelled to pull his lips over his teeth after a moment. "I would like that."

"I thought you might." Brian seemed very pleased with himself then, and offered him his arm as they continued on through the park. "If we can find one of them, that is!"

It took them a good fifteen minutes of strolling through the quiet, dark park before they spotted a few horse-drawn carriages parked not far off and got far too excited about their success, between them. Freddie couldn't believe the ridiculously steep price for a twenty minute ride, but at least the carriages were still operating this late into the evening. They sat in the back, legs covered by a blanket provided to them, and looked out into the darkness surrounding them as the carriage bumped along. The night air was quite chilly, and perhaps Freddie exaggerated how cold he felt just a little when he scooted closer to Brian. To his delight, an arm came up around his shoulders a few moments later and he leaned closer still, short of resting his head on Brian's shoulder.

"We should've done this while it was light," he remarked with a little laugh. "I can't see a damn thing."

Brian laughed too, a soft, low sound just beside Freddie's ear, long fingers stroking up and down his upper arm. Freddie could just about feel the touch, through the sleeve of his coat.

"I don't think sightseeing is why people do this at night," Brian remarked with a smile.

"Oh?" Freddie feigned naivety, enjoying himself immensely as he turned his face up towards the other man with large, innocent eyes. "Then why do they?"

He could hear the small shudder in Brian's breath as he hugged him a little closer and turned to look at him, their faces only inches away. They glanced at the driver of the carriage as one, just to make sure that he very definitely had his back turned to them, then shared a grin when their eyes met again. But as Freddie looked into the other man's eyes, his smile faded and Brian swallowed, gazing back at him intently.

"I'm not…" he shook his head minutely, "This isn't… I don't want you to- to just- because I… because I paid you…"

He broke off when Freddie's hand slid onto his thigh under the blanket, resting just above his knee.

"Ask me." Freddie uttered softly, moving a tiny bit closer still. Practically begging to be kissed. "Ask me what I want."

Brian took a deep breath and wrapped his hand around Freddie's under the blanket, stroking it with his thumb.

"Do you… Would you like-"

"Yes," Freddie nodded, before Brian had finished speaking, and they both couldn't help but chuckle again, leaning so close the tips of their noses brushed against each other. A tender acquaintance.

"May I kiss you?"

Freddie brought his other hand up to Brian's jaw, lightly running his fingers over his beard.

"Yes," he breathed.

And so Brian did.

Impossibly gentle, at first, lips brushing against each other. A light caress, a minute passing like that, before they melted into each other, and Brian's breath hitched as Freddie captured his lower lip between his teeth. The next moment he threaded their fingers together, grasping Freddie's hand tightly, and met him with the same passion, a slide of tongue and lips pressed together tightly. Freddie's hand slid to the back of Brian's neck, holding him there, unwilling to let the kiss end.

Because there was no doubt, this time.

This felt quite simply, unequivocally… _right_.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do let me know what you thought! ❤️


	9. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to updating this! Enjoy!
> 
> Thank you very much to my speedy beta reader, Brit picker and Frian expert, tartymoriarty!! 💕

\- - - 

Well, Freddie thought, sitting astride Brian's lap, this was almost as though he was thirteen again. 

His hands were buried in Brian's hair, which had come undone - alright, it was entirely possible that Freddie had pulled the hairband holding it all together loose at the first opportunity. That mass of wild curls was just begging to be gripped and wound around his fingers. Meanwhile, Brian's large hands were roaming his back, pressing him closer - but keeping well away from anywhere below the waistband of his jeans. And then again a gentle touch, just fingertips, running up and down Freddie's sides. Making him shiver pleasantly. Their lips were raw from kissing as they teased and explored each other with tongue and teeth. 

They had been at it for a good while. 

They hadn't, as a matter of fact, so much as stopped for more than a couple of minutes since the carriage ride. Brian had slipped the driver a tip to leave them just opposite the hotel, into which they had stumbled, hand in hand, falling into each other the moment the lift doors had closed. And for the last twenty minutes or so, they hadn't made it further than the sofa. It was all really quite sweet. 

And it was driving him _crazy_. 

Breaking the kiss, Brian dragged his lips across Freddie's jaw, down to his neck, warm breath tickling his skin, coaxing a low moan from him. Tongue hot and tender, mouth sucking at a sensitive patch, bruising it. Freddie ground against him, shamelessly pressing his erection into the answering hardness in Brian's trousers. Under any other circumstances, he would have made short work of those trousers a long time ago. But every time his hands had strayed up Brian's thighs or close to his belt, the other man had gently redirected him. 

Freddie was starting to feel oddly like a high-schooler in a 1950s movie, just trying to _cop a feel_. A part of him wanted to laugh. After all, what had he expected? Brian was completely inexperienced when it came to guys, he wasn't exactly going to fuck Freddie over the back of the sofa an hour after their first kiss. Although that was a delightful thought… Freddie whimpered, realising he'd most likely have to content himself with the fantasy for now.

And in a way, that was quite alright. There was no goal to chase, just Brian's warmth, his scent and his caresses - but fuck, Freddie really couldn't remember the last time he'd been so desperately turned on while still fully clothed. Pulling Brian's head back by his hair, he caught his eye for a moment, both of them catching their breath. 

Oh, but his tall, dark stranger looked delightful, lips parted and swollen, eyes half-hooded and gleaming with desire. Freddie made a needy little sound and crashed their lips back together, rocking his hips against him in a steady rhythm. One of Brian's hands came up to his cheek, cradling his face. Their kisses urgent and hungry. Then his fingers trailed down across Freddie's neck, leaving pleasant shivers in their wake. There was such intensity in the smallest touch, nothing but a tantalising hint of skin on skin, a million thoughts of what was still to come. Or so Freddie hoped anyway, imagining and longing for the heat of Brian's bare body against him, on top of him, surrounding him. 

Naturally, a large part of his focus was on Brian's cock, and the way he could _feel_ it strain against its confines, making his own cock twitch in response. Not being allowed to touch was practically _torture_. He was considering another sneaky attempt when Brian's hand slipped down across his chest, lightly grazing his pierced nipple through his shirt. Freddie couldn't help the quiet gasp, muffled against the other man's lips. 

It didn't go unnoticed. 

Curious fingers returned, rubbing the puckered nub through the material. _Fuck_. It had no business feeling this good, making him whimper and push into the touch like that. He might've been a little embarrassed if his mind hadn't been so hazy with pleasure. Tugging at fistfuls of dark curls, Freddie ground down harder, the blissful, aching heat in his balls and at his very core radiating through him. Setting his nerve-endings on fire. Brian moaned into his mouth, a delicious sound, and rolled Freddie's nipple under his fingertip. Then lightly tugged at the piercing through his shirt. _Fuckfuckfuck-_

Freddie was going to cry, beg or come in his jeans if this carried on for much longer. Possibly all three. Abandoning Brian's lips, he leaned close to his ear and traced the shell of it with his tongue. Brian gave a throaty moan, wrapping his arms around him, fingertips digging into his back. 

"Bedroom?" Freddie whispered hopefully, attempting to sound seductive although he had a feeling all he achieved was a definite note of desperation. With a low hum, Brian pulled him flush against himself. "Darling…" Freddie purred - yes, definitely desperation. 

"No," Brian murmured, to his dismay. "We can't… I can't." 

Freddie pressed his face into the crook of Brian's neck. Cry, he was veritably going to cry. "Why not?" 

There was no reply, at first. Just warm hands, stroking his back. Hesitant. Uncertain. 

"You- you don't have to do anything…" Freddie assured him softly, "just let me… God, I'll make you feel so good, I promise-"

Brian swore under his breath and slid his fingers up into Freddie's hair, pulling him in for another kiss. If his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied, Freddie would have smirked, quite certain of his powers of persuasion. Brian wouldn't be kissing him like this, if he wasn't just as desperate, surely? 

But then the other man abruptly broke the kiss again, hands sliding down to Freddie's shoulders, pushing him back just a little. 

"No," Brian uttered and met his eyes with a gaze that was both apologetic and misted over with longing. "Freddie, I can't."

Freddie huffed out a soft chuckle of disbelief, searching his face to try and understand what was going on, and more importantly, how to fix it. But insecurity silenced any words trying to spill from his lips. Was it his fault? Was he too much, too soon? Too needy, too demanding? _As always_ , a voice whispered at the back of his mind and he lowered his eyes, raking his teeth over his lips. 

A warm hand cupped his jaw, Brian's thumbs tenderly stroking over his cheek. "I'm sorry…" 

"No, it's- it's fine, I-" Freddie started, staring at his hands on Brian's shoulders, but Brian spoke over him. 

"I just don't think it's right," he sighed, and Freddie lifted his eyes. Brian was looking at him intently, the expression on his face indecipherable and full of conflicting emotion. "I don't… I don't want to be… I'm not paying you for _this_." 

Was _that_ all it was? Freddie shook his head with a breath of relief, brushing a curly strand of hair out of Brian's face.

"You're not," he told him softly, "Forget about that."

He leaned in again, attacking Brian's lips with renewed passion, and shivering at the other man's moan. Answering it in kind. However, the next moment a firm hand was placed on his chest, pushing him away again carefully but insistently. 

Freddie whined, giving Brian a vaguely disbelieving, imploring look. "Darling, trust me, I don't mind…" 

"I do." Brian bit his lower lip and gave a small shake of his head. "I'm sorry, it's just not right."

With a groan, Freddie let his forehead drop onto Brian's shoulder. "Curse you. You're too good for this world." 

Brian laughed mirthlessly, his hand drawing circles on Freddie's back. "It's not just that," he admitted quietly. 

Lifting his head up, Freddie caught his eye and slid off his lap to sit beside him, one hand tenderly stroking the side of his neck. "Then what?" 

That faraway, preoccupied look was in Brian's eyes again as he gazed into the middle distance, frowning. 

"You can tell me." Freddie told him softly. "I won't be mad, I promise," he added with a smile. "Are you secretly married with kids?" 

"No," Brian smiled back, briefly meeting his eyes. "It's not like that." He pursed his lips thoughtfully and took one of Freddie's hands in his own. "It's just that… I don't really know where I'll be, after this. I can't, um. I can't make any promises." 

"That sounds awfully mysterious," Freddie drawled with a smirk and then gasped dramatically. "Oh my goodness!" He exclaimed and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Are you secretly a _spy_?" 

A grin lit up Brian's face and Freddie couldn't help but return it. "I wouldn't tell you if I was, would I." Freddie stared at him with dramatically wide eyes and Brian gave a chortle. "I'm not a spy. Sorry. I'm just… in a very unpredictable situation right now. So this isn't… much as I'd like it to, I can't say…" 

Freddie tilted his head to the side, combing his fingers through curly strands of hair. "Oh lovie, you're adorable. Who said anything about promises?" 

"Well, I… I wouldn't want you to think-" 

"What?" Good God, the man was so adorable Freddie couldn't help lean in to peck him on the cheek, and then on the lips when Brian turned his head towards him. "That we're just having a bit of fun? Because there's nothing wrong with that." He smiled fondly at the uncertain look on Brian's face. "Darling, this is, weirdly, already so much more…" Freddie waved a hand, looking for the word. "... _meaningful_ and… romantic and all that than my love life has been in years!" he declared flippantly. "Trust me."

He'd expected Brian to laugh, but instead the other man was looking at him with something in his eyes that might have been concern. Perhaps even pity.

"I'm sorry," he said. 

It made Freddie feel a surge of indignation and he disentangled himself, shifting away and crossing one leg over the other. 

"I wasn't _complaining_ ," he informed Brian with a flick of his wrist. "But thanks for the judgement anyway." 

Brian's eyebrows disappeared under his hair. "Oh… oh God, no, I really didn't- I didn't mean it like that at all." 

"Whatever," Freddie muttered, but the next words out of Brian's mouth took him off guard. 

"I just think you deserve so much more than…" he started and trailed off, hanging his head. "Ah. I'm sorry, I'm hearing it too, now." 

Freddie shook his head, a small smile returning to his face, and lightly nudged Brian's leg with his foot. "Not to worry. It's very sweet that you would think I'm so _deserving_." 

"You are," Brian said earnestly, looking back up at him.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment and leaned closer as one, melting into a slow, heartfelt kiss. Eyes falling shut as their tongues teased and caressed each other, delving deep into each other's mouths. Freddie was going to enjoy the hell out of this, at the very least, even if it wasn't going to go any further. Although he hadn't entirely given up hope yet... He hummed, pulling away just enough to murmur the words that followed against Brian's lips, one hand cupping his face. The rough stubble of his beard under his palm. 

"The things I'd do to you if you'd let me." 

The involuntary small noise Brian made in response filled Freddie with a warm rush of pride and delight. 

"...Like what?" The other man uttered in a near whisper and Freddie broke into a Cheshire Cat grin, nails lightly scratching at the rough growth along the line of Brian's jaw. He leaned in close to Brian's ear. 

"I'd love to suck you off…" Simply saying it sent a jolt of excitement straight to his core. His fingers trailed down across Brian's torso. "Swallow you down…" Brian made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a low growl. Freddie's fingers slid across Brian's stomach, feeling him draw an unsteady breath. "Make you beg before I make you come." 

"Fuck," Brian hissed through his teeth, and this time, Freddie's hand was not diverted as it reached the other man's belt. Gleefully sensing victory, his fingers found the other man's crotch, palming him through his trousers. "Mmmh, thick…" 

"Freddie-" 

"Or you can fuck me, would you like that?" Crude words, so coyly, almost innocently whispered. They elicited a moan and made Freddie's own cock jump. "I think you'd like that…" 

Brian bucked up into his hand and Freddie captured his lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth for a moment while he rubbed him through his trousers. 

"I think _I'd_ like that," he told him in a sultry voice and kissed him, hard and deep, pressing down with the heel of his hand. 

With a low growl, Brian shifted on the sofa and lay a hand on Freddie's waist, fingertips digging into his skin through the material of his shirt. Brian leaned in until Freddie fell back onto the sofa, pinned down underneath the taller man. Oh yes, this was more like it. Freddie moaned, sliding his arms around Brian's shoulders, and wrapped a leg around him, cursing the numerous layers of clothes between them, rocked his hips up against Brian none too subtly. They fell into a rhythm after a few moments, the friction so good, although all it did was make him want more. Brian broke the kiss and scraped his teeth across Freddie's jaw, one hand sliding underneath him and squeezing his arse while he lavished kisses on his neck. 

"God, you're…" he breathed, nuzzling into Freddie’s hair. "I would… I would like that… all of that."

"Yeah?" Freddie whined, unable to focus on anything but the ache of desire which had flooded his entire body, concentrating low in his abdomen. 

"So much, you've no idea-"

"I've some idea," Freddie replied with a thrust of his hips and Brian pressed his forehead into the crook of his neck - and stilled with a strangled noise, somewhere between a tortured sigh and a sob.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against Freddie's skin, and he sounded it, truly. "I'm sorry, it's just not-" Freddie could feel the shake of his head.

"Not right," Freddie muttered flatly and sighed, rolling his eyes even as he wrapped his arms around the other man tighter, embracing him in a way that was comforting more than passionate. Brian nestled his head down on his shoulder, slumping on top of him. 

"I _bought_ you," he uttered, sounding as though he couldn't quite believe it himself. "Why did I do that? How could I _do_ that?" 

"People buy my company all the time," Freddie pointed out. Of all the times to have an attack of conscience, Brian had decided to pick the very worst moment. 

"I don't want to be one of those people," Brian lifted himself up, pulling away. 

"You're not…" Freddie tried to tell him. 

"It wasn't meant to be like this." Sitting back up on the sofa, Brian dropped his hands into his lap helplessly, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I don't know who I am anymore." 

Freddie blinked, trying to redirect some of his attention to his brain - which was no easy feat given that a fair amount of blood was currently elsewhere. He awkwardly pulled himself up to sitting, too, watching Brian with exasperated sympathy. For goodness sake. What in the world was he supposed to say to _that_? Where was this even coming from? Try as he might, he was drawing a blank. 

Brian glanced at him, and the expression on Freddie's face must have given him away. "I'm sorry," he said, and lowered his eyes, "it's not you, you're wonderful-" 

"Oh wow." Freddie cut him off with a quiet huff, self-consciously brushing his hair out of his face. "Am I really getting the 'it's not you, it's me' talk? Goodness." He tried to laugh it off with a flick of his wrist. "It's like we've gone through an entire relationship in one night." 

"No, that's not…" Brian reached out and took his hand and in both of his, and waited until Freddie met his eyes. "I need…" he said slowly and swallowed, a frown on his face. "I need to sleep on it. I just… It's a lot. Because I really-" There was a cautious smile on his lips. "I really like you." 

Freddie's heart softened, and how could it not? When Brian was looking at him so earnestly, so sincerely conflicted and sweet and- oh, for fuck's sake. His face must have softened, too, because Brian looked relieved. Freddie gave his hand a squeeze. 

"Come sleep in my bed tonight," he suggested and smirked a little, eyelids drooping. 

"Well…"

"Just to sleep. It's a very big bed."

Brian laughed softly, stroking the back of Freddie's hand with his thumb. "I don't think that's a good idea." 

Freddie raised an eyebrow, genuinely amused. "Are you so afraid of my seductive prowess?"

The dark look in Brian's eyes sent a shiver down his spine. 

"It's not you I'm worried about," he uttered in a low voice, and a frankly embarrassing giggle escaped Freddie. Brian broke into a grin, and Freddie lowered his eyes. 

"Alright." He nodded, taking a deep breath and patting their joint hands with his other hand. "Alright, dearie. Let's call it a night."

When he rose to his feet, Brian held on to his hand and Freddie turned back over his shoulder. 

"Thank you." There was such deep affection in the other man's eyes that it touched Freddie's very heart. "For a wonderful evening," Brian said, giving his hand one final squeeze. "Goodnight."

Their fingers lingered for a second as their hands pulled apart. 

"Goodnight, darling," Freddie responded, all but in a whisper, before he turned away. 

Some ten minutes ago, he would have been very tempted to head straight for the bathroom to take care of business himself before bed, but all this anxiety and agonising had killed the desire to do so. Now he just felt tired and a bit deflated. But also full of the excitement and warmth of new romance, and there was no feeling in the world Freddie loved more than this. When it felt as though anything was possible, as though this, right here, might be everything he'd ever hoped for. 

It wasn't. It never was and it never would be, and he knew that, deep down. Life wasn't a fairytale. But it was nice, nonetheless, to think of it that way. Even if only for a while.

_Still alive xx_

Was all he managed to text Roger once he'd climbed into bed, only skimming over the messages he had received briefly, before he switched off the lights. As Freddie lay awake, never one to drift off immediately, he replayed the evening in his mind for some time. The music shop, the market, the carriage ride - it did all seem like a bit of fairytale romance, in hindsight. And even though the night had ended innocently and perhaps a little strangely, well, was that so bad? Freddie smiled to himself in the dark. Certainly not. He'd had a fair amount of sex less thrilling than that encounter on the sofa. If nothing else, there was much to look forward to...

\- - - 

What a sight. 

Inspecting himself in the large bedroom mirror, naked, Freddie shook his head with a quiet tut. He _did_ look rather battered. The plaster had come off and his elbow was ugly and scabbed over, large purple-blue-green bruises on his thigh and decorating his knees, one of which in particular still felt quite stiff. There was also a twinge in his back which he couldn't remember feeling before the accident, but it was nothing, he figured. It'd go away. At least he wasn't planning to return to the club for a couple of weeks, having decided that he deserved a break. 

He deserved to not come back at all, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind, but at the same time Freddie knew well that, realistically speaking, he was just going to spend all that money far too soon if he decides to live off of it. He'd be better off holding on to it until he'd formed a proper plan.

Then again - he turned away from the mirror and beheld his clothes, all spread out on the bed, none of which seemed to appeal - it didn't mean he couldn't indulge _a little_. 

"I've had an idea," Brian had murmured between kisses that morning, on his way out. His briefcase in one hand, the other hand around Freddie's waist. Fingertips stroking Freddie's back underneath his shirt, just above the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. "I'm taking you somewhere special tonight, you- mmh…" 

Freddie had cut him off, pressing their lips together again, both hands firmly planted on Brian's bum. The mood had been a lovely one this morning, both of them drawn to each other like magnets. Touches, caresses, flirtatious banter. Freddie had loved every second. 

"I have to go to _work_ ," Brian had chuckled, even while he'd pulled him closer, leaning into another ravenous kiss from which they both emerged a little breathless. "Although I wish I didn't…" 

"I very much wish you didn't," Freddie had informed him with a smirk, quite deliberately pressing his erection against Brian's thigh through the thin fabric of his pyjama trousers. The curly-haired man had given a playful little growl and kissed him again and Freddie had gasped with surprise when Brian's large hand was suddenly between them, pressing against his cock. Only separated by the thin layer of satin. It would seem that some of Brian's reservations had melted away overnight. 

"Behave." A low murmur, against Freddie's lips, eliciting a weak moan from him as his cock twitched beneath Brian's touch.

"And what if I don't?" The reply had come out all but of its own accord as he'd glanced up at the other man through his lashes. Brian had quirked an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips as he ran his fingers up the underside of Freddie's cock before pulling his hand away. 

"You're trouble, aren't you." 

"And you're a dreadful tease," Freddie had replied breathlessly through a grin, every part of him yearning for another touch, for the other man's warmth back, when Brian had stepped away from him. 

"I'll see you later." Brian had given him a toothy, borderline naughty grin in return, then glanced down and cleared his throat as he adjusted himself through his trousers. They'd shared a chuckle. 

"Where are we going?" Freddie had wanted to know, following him to the door. 

"You'll see, I'll message you." Pulling the door open after a last peck on the lips, Brian had paused, a glint of excitement in his eye. "Somewhere fancy." 

With a delighted coo, Freddie had seen him off and closed the door, leaning against it and breathing a deep sigh. 

Fancy... 

Now, as he stood in front of all the clothes he had brought on this trip, Freddie realised one thing. 

He definitely, _definitely_ deserved to go shopping. 

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! 😁


	10. Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am finally back with this after an accidental hiatus, which I am very sorry about! Got caught up in writing some birthday gift fics, whoops. The next chapter will definitely not take this long as it's already mostly written.
> 
> Here is a visual to go with the outfit Freddie ends up wearing in the second half of this chapter.  
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185412286@N08/50638257371/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> The Magic Flute - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
> 
> A big, big thank you to tartymoriarty for beta-reading! ❤️

\- - -

"An entire floor! Shoes and chocolate fountains,” Freddie laughed, throwing his head back. “Well, nevermind the chocolates, I must go back for the shoes tomorrow when I have more time. Oh, and I bought you a shirt!" he finished excitedly, juggling the various shopping bags he was holding as well as his phone, pressed against his ear, as he strode down 5th Avenue with a big grin on his face. 

Roger chuckled. "Did you now?" 

"Yes, you'll _adore_ it, darling! It's Ralph Lauren," Freddie told him, eyes surveying the busy street from behind his new Dior sunglasses. "Don't worry, it was a steal."

"Oh yeah? Well, thanks." 

"Only a hundred and eighty." 

"Christ, Freddie!" 

"Marked down from three hundred and fifty!" Freddie added quickly, in his defence. 

There was a huff at the other end of the line, half amusement and half exasperation. "I swear, if you end up spending all that money before you get back…" 

"How could I _possibly_ spend that much money in a couple of days?" 

“I wouldn’t put it past you! How the hell are you going to fit everything into your suitcase?”

Freddie tutted at that inconsequential detail. “Oh please, I’ll just pay for extra luggage.” He breathed a contented sigh. “God, I love shopping.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time.” Roger’s voice was warm and genuine, and the smile on Freddie’s face widened. 

“Speaking of good times. How’s _Dominique_?” He drawled the name in a faux French accent, his tone suggestive. 

“Delightful,” Roger informed him non-committally, and said nothing else, which was a dead giveaway to anyone who knew Roger well. Because he was no stranger to delivering proud, explicit accounts of his conquests - as long as they were inconsequential.

“Goodness,” Freddie teased. “Is it that serious?”

“So what’s the weather like in New York?” Roger deflected, and Freddie couldn’t help but laugh again. It was a relief to no longer feel that stab of jealousy, when his own heart was full of tender affection towards somebody. 

"It's beautiful today," he replied, itching to tell Roger about the night before in vague terms. But it was a little soon to jump to conclusions, perhaps, and he didn't want to do it over the phone. Anyway, they'd see each other in a couple of days. It would be much nicer to catch up properly over a cup of tea on Saturday morning. 

\- - -

It was turning out to be a fantastic day. 

Although by early afternoon Freddie was already exhausted - if euphoric - after several hours of boutiques and high street stores.

Already Wednesday, he thought wistfully when he returned to the hotel and entered the suite. And here he was foolishly beginning to get used to all the luxury. How easy it was to start thinking of it all as something ordinary rather than awe-inducing, once he’d been around it long enough. And yet, the view was still a marvel and the piano…

He proceeded to order room service and sat down to play for a bit while he waited. A new melody had come to him, for the first time in a long time, just a few minutes before his lunch arrived. All these new impressions and not having to fret about money every moment of every day was certainly conducive to his creativity.

Making himself comfortable in front of the television to eat his lunch a little while later, Freddie aimlessly flicked through the channels to find something of interest. He was about to change to a streaming service when a news channel caught his eye. The news wouldn’t usually have made him pause, but it was the mention of a name that immediately rang a bell which prompted him to return to it after he had flicked past. 

_’...eagerly awaiting the press conference on Friday.’_ The perfectly coiffed young reporter was saying, standing outside a building which read in large silver letters - and yes, Freddie was sure that was what he had heard - NOVA ENTERPRISES. He frowned and put down the remote on the coffee table, beside his plate. Wasn’t that the company Brian was working for? Freddie chewed quietly, listening to the report. It sounded very interesting, although the whole thing had a bit of a secretive ring to it. Apparently all of America was holding its breath for the big reveal tomorrow, something about a space station and space tourism, if Freddie had understood correctly. Well, there had been talk of that for ages now, in the same way that the media was always talking about the imminent introduction of a global digital currency, another looming pandemic and the ice caps melting entirely. Freddie generally didn’t pay much attention to most of these things. However, could this press conference be the reason Brian had come to New York? Perhaps that was why he couldn’t talk about his work? Because it was all still a secret?

Freddie thoughtfully chewed his mouthful of goat’s cheese and roasted vegetables, mulling it over as the report ended. Well, surely Brian could have told him _some_ thing? And why had he made it all sound so awful? Freddie failed to see how working for a company that was planning to open a space hotel could be anything but exciting. He’d have to get a bit more information out of him tonight, Freddie decided, and found a sitcom to watch online while he finished the rest of his lunch.

By late afternoon, Brian had messaged him with an address. It was a street corner and not indicative of where they might be going. That wasn’t very helpful as far as choosing what he ought to be wearing was concerned, but after some deliberation, Freddie had decided to go for smart and _mildly outrageous._ It had only taken him around an hour and a bit, in the end, before he was content with his reflection in the mirror. The black waistcoat he was wearing covered just enough to lift the sheer blouse into the realms of high fashion, rather than plain indecency, the black silk bow at the collar a beautifully androgynous accent. As, to be fair, was the mid-length, pleated, dark grey skirt. It all went wonderfully with his Louboutins, which was just as well because he hadn't got around to shoes much on his shopping trip today. That would have to wait until tomorrow. 

Freddie tilted his chin up and pointed one foot a little as he admired himself in the mirror. The see-through material of the blouse was very flattering and made his arms look slimmer, in fact the whole ensemble was quite flattering. 

_Gorgeous._

Well, the clothes were, anyhow. His lips curled into a small smirk. By all appearances it looked as though he was wearing black leggings underneath the skirt when in actual fact they were a pair of opaque hold-up stockings. And a very indecent pair of knickers. The knowledge that Brian might discover that secret before the end of the night was immensely thrilling. Freddie wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his mind off that thought throughout the evening.

With half an hour left before he’d have to leave, he quickly straightened his hair back into shape, lined his eyes with a well-practised hand and dabbed on a little bit of highlighter to bring out his cheekbones before he threw on his yellow coat and headed out.

\- - -

Brian was already waiting on the corner when Freddie’s taxi arrived and, to Freddie’s amusement (but also delight), he rushed to help him out of the car when he saw it pull up as if he expected a girl wearing impossible heels. However, he stopped himself at the last moment, hesitating with his hand half-outstretched.

“Hey…”

“Thank you, dear.” Freddie seized his hand and let himself be pulled up, all but straight into a Brian’s arms. “Hello.” He smiled, still holding his hand, and lifted himself up onto the tips of his toes when Brian leaned down to peck him on the lips. Immediately, the thought of just going back to the hotel appealed much more than any fancy plans he could imagine. But then again, Brian had seemed so excited about it this morning and Freddie was awfully curious.

“So, where are we going?” he asked. 

“You’ll see in just a moment.” Brian smiled, offering his arm. “This way.”

They strolled down the street together, exchanging a few words about their days. Freddie was about to bring up the report he’d caught on the telly when Brian stopped and pointedly looked at a large building on the other side of the square they had come out on. It was beautiful. Contemporary architecture and brightly lit.

“What’s this?” Freddie asked, intrigued. “A theatre?”

“It’s, um, actually it’s the Metropolitan Opera house,” Brian informed him. 

Freddie turned to him with wide eyes, squeezing his arm tighter. “You’re taking me to the opera?”

“Yes.” Brian gave a chortle before his expression turned a little worried. “Is that… alright?”

Freddie blinked, realising he must have been staring at him quite oddly, and broke into an unguarded smile. “Yes… yes, of course, dear! It’s- How did you _know_?”

“Know what?”

“How did you know I liked opera?” Freddie laughed incredulously, trying to recall mentioning it and coming up with nothing. 

“You told me.” There was a soft, fond sort of look in the other man’s eyes and it filled Freddie’s chest with warmth, even while the cold wind around them picked up. Although he still couldn’t remember.

“When?”

“The night we met.”

“God,” Freddie huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Did I? I barely remember anything I said that night…”

“I remember it all,” said Brian, his voice so earnest that Freddie’s heart lurched with emotion. He closed his fingers around the lapel of Brian’s coat and pulled him close, simultaneously pulling himself up to close the distance between them. Brian made a surprised but appreciative little sound against his lips, sliding his arm around Freddie.

 _I love you_ \- the words flashed through Freddie’s mind like a spark as they shared a slow, tender kiss. And, _dear me_ , Freddie thought, wasn’t that ridiculous? They’d known each other for all of one week. But love wasn’t rational. It was temperamental, impulsive and inconstant, and in this very moment, it was true.

“You’re very sweet,” he said as they pulled apart, because he wasn’t an idiot, after all. If there was a sure-fire way to ruin everything, it would be letting Brian know just how easily swayed he was, and how foolishly romantic.

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Brian was smiling, still holding him close. “Shall we?”

“Ooh,” Freddie’s eyes went wide again, this time with excitement. “What are we seeing?”

"The Magic Flute," the other man informed him, his inflection rising a bit at the end, as though he wasn't sure if Freddie would approve. 

"Lovely,” Freddie assured him, linking their arms as they made their way towards the opera house. “Mozart, the original rock star.”

Brian’s laughter was a lovely sound, and Freddie found he wanted to keep on hearing it every day henceforth, until he’d well and truly had his fill. “Speaking of rock stars…” The taller man glanced down at Freddie, a curious twinkle in his eye. “You’re very, um, eye-catching tonight.”

“Hah! I’ll take that as a compliment, I suppose.”

“No, it is. You look fantastic.”

“Why, thank you, dear.” Freddie cast his date a coquettish glance as they stepped through the doors into the warmth of the foyer. Because this was a date, this was definitely an official date, he thought giddily. And it was already one of the most interesting he’d had in recent memory.

It turned out Brian had paid for a private box in the dress circle. Of course he had, Freddie thought, seating himself on plush, dark red velvet. He felt a little cheeky when the thought that he could really get used to this crossed his mind. There was joking about sugar daddies and then there was the really quite enjoyable reality of being treated to things like these as if it were nothing. It wasn’t like that, of course. Brian was far too young - and attractive, even if he’d had not a penny to his name - to be anything like a sugar daddy.

It was also entirely possible that Brian had not realised what a treat this truly was for Freddie. The opera was not cheap. In fact, it was horrendously expensive back home and not something Freddie’s budget allowed for particularly often. However, he suspected that Brian was starting to understand, when Freddie caught him looking at him halfway through the Queen’s first aria, an expression on his face that was part delight and part wonder. Freddie smiled, a little caught out. And when he turned back to the stage, lifting the small golden binoculars he had rented to his face once more, he reached across and lay a hand on Brian’s knee. A warm hand wrapped around his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. Freddie genuinely had to wonder if he hadn’t somehow left his mortal plane and fallen into a world made up entirely of his sweetest daydreams 

The first act was utterly captivating. Freddie was caught up in the sheer, breathtaking beauty of it all. The lights, the scenery, the costumes and the music. Oh, the music. It was humbling and inspiring all at once, making his heart soar, and even though a thought or two about what one might get up to in a private box had crossed his mind when they had first taken their seats, he found that he simply could not take his attention off the performance. It was almost comical that for all his efforts to be a picture of temptation and allure tonight, all they did was hold hands and exchange quiet whispers every now and again throughout the first act. 

It wasn’t until the interval when Freddie emerged from his daze a little, overwhelmed with how much he was enjoying this night. They didn’t brave the masses to queue for drinks, but decided to stay put, overlooking the gorgeous auditorium and talking about opera, music and their most memorable concerts. Rock and classical.

“You’ve never been to a festival? Not even Glastonbury?” Brian marvelled, eyes wide with surprise. “ _Never_?”

Freddie grimaced. “Well, it isn’t that I wouldn’t have liked to go.” He combed his fingers through his hair, which was immaculately straightened tonight, absently admiring the large, ice-crystal shaped chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. “It’s just that I can’t afford a festival _and_ accommodation and, really, darling, I can’t see myself sleeping in a tent, can you?” he laughed. “All that mud, ugh.” 

“Oh, but Freddie, it’s so worth it!” Brian enthused, utterly incredulous that Freddie would forego the experience due to questionable comfort. “No, you must, I’m sure you’d love it if you went. I’ll take you,” he blurted out, looking quite serious and determined for a moment. A man on a mission. Freddie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Will you, now?” He quirked an eyebrow, thrilled at the suggestion of plans for the future, however whimsical and unlikely they were to turn into reality. “I’m very high maintenance,” he informed Brian, breaking into a toothy grin. “I’m not sure you’ve noticed.”

Glancing around the lavish auditorium, Brian nodded thoughtfully, before his eyes returned to Freddie, twinkling slyly. “No, I think I’m aware.” He returned the smile. “But I do like a challenge. And unless I’m very much mistaken, you can’t resist a dare.”

Freddie let his mouth fall open, one hand flying up to his chest. “Are you _daring_ me to go to Glastonbury with you?”

“Yes, I am.” Still smiling, Brian narrowed his eyes at him.

“Well played, Mr. May.” Freddie tutted and pursed his lips, one elbow on the banister as he surveyed the people below who were returning to their seats. Perhaps wading through mud and sleeping in a flimsy tent wasn’t going to be quite so bad if he had Brian there with him. He could just imagine him, wellies and a band t-shirt, hair untied. Oh Lord, he was so taken with this man, it was downright ridiculous. He drew a breath to speak, turning back to Brian, but the look on the other man’s face made him stop short. There was no trace of a smile now and his gaze was unfocused and distant. It was a look Freddie recognised well now, having seen it time and again whenever Brian spoke of the future. Worry or regret, Freddie wasn’t sure, but it worried _him_ , and all of a sudden, he was reminded of the news report he had caught earlier again. Because this was undoubtedly to do with Brian’s work.

“Hey,” Freddie said softly, and Brian snapped out of his thoughts, raising his eyes up to him with a weak smile. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah.” The other man nodded, his smile widening even though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

For a moment Freddie wasn’t sure how to dig deeper, or if he should even try. If Brian didn’t want to talk about it, what could he do? A part of him wanted to pretend he hadn’t noticed, to just keep on enjoying the evening. However, another part of him desperately wanted to know what it was that continued to cast a shadow over everything.

“So.” Turning the golden binoculars over in his hands and inspecting them half-heartedly, as though he was saying nothing of consequence, Freddie decided to bring it up. “I was watching the news earlier and they were talking about your company. There’s a press conference on Friday? About this big, international… space hotel?”

There was a hint of trepidation on Brian’s face when Freddie glanced up, although his expression softened as soon as their eyes met. 

“Oh… erm, yes,” he confirmed with a shrug. “It isn’t all that…” Brian sighed as he trailed off. “They make it sound very exciting, I know.”

“Brian, it’s space tourism.” Freddie flicked his wrist back, suppressing a grin. “Of course it’s exciting.”

“I suppose,” the other man conceded begrudgingly, a plea in his eyes when he continued, “it’s just… look, I really don’t want to talk about it. Is that alright? Because you were right, last night.”

“About what?” Freddie asked quietly, leaning a little closer.

“Everything... probably.” Brian lowered his gaze for a moment, running a hand over his hair. Tucking a loose strand away into the bun. “I keep getting caught up in… things that… haven’t happened yet, and you’re so… you’re so present,” he shook his head slightly, staring at the spiky tips of Freddie’s boots. “You don’t think, you just… you want and you _do_.”

“I do think,” Freddie sniffed, a bit affronted. 

Brian chuckled and ran a hand over his face, looking back up at him. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. It was meant to be a compliment. You do, you’re very intelligent, too, which is just… you know, I’m a little envious of you.”

Freddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Of _me_?”

“Yes,” the other man assured him, quite earnestly. “Because maybe… maybe sometimes, that’s all that matters.” His eyes seemed to darken a little, drawing Freddie in. “Here and now.”

“Yes,” Freddie agreed. Encouraged. Because if this was leading where he thought it might be leading… yes, _oh yes._

The bell rang, announcing the second act, and breaking the hint of tension which had arisen between them. They both sat up straight, Freddie adjusting his sleeves while Brian loosened his tie a little. Even as he did so, he peered over at Freddie, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, and looked him up and down as Freddie cross one leg over the other. It was a look that sent a pleasant shiver down Freddie’s spine and he was seized by a sudden sense of adventure and daring. And so he gracefully stretched out his fingers, catching the hem of his skirt between them, and pulled it up to his thighs in one smooth movement. Just long enough to reveal a glimpse of lace and bare skin, before he quickly pulled it back down.

Oh, and it was worth it. Brian blinked, jaw slack for a long moment before he remembered to close his mouth while the lights in the auditorium grew dimmer.

“Act two,” Freddie murmured nonchalantly and lifted his binoculars, turning to the stage. It took everything in him to remain like that, his shoulder turned to Brian. Because unlike before, marvellous as it was, the opera could no longer hold his attention. He felt tingly with excitement, his entire focus on the other man’s presence beside him. All he could think about was swivelling around on his chair and grabbing Brian by the collar to pull him into a kiss which he knew wouldn’t end in a kiss alone. 

However, his restraint paid off tenfold when, ten minutes into the second act, he felt a hand on his knee. And then, fingertips sliding lower, stroking over his stockinged leg just below the hem of the skirt. A prickle of need, sweet anticipation, rippled through him, shooting straight to his core. _Yes, come on._ No hint of acknowledgement on his face, Freddie lowered one hand on top of Brian’s and slowly dragged it up his thigh, the skirt lifting in Brian’s grasp, while below on the stage the high priest advised the young couple through solemn song. 

When Brian’s fingers reached the lacy top of the stocking, Freddie released his hand and reached behind himself until he blindly encountered Brian’s leg, sliding his hand halfway up the inside of his thigh and drawing small circles there. Curious fingertips caressed the top of his leg, stroking over lace and bare skin. Freddie uncrossed his legs and spread them a little, mostly because he was getting rather uncomfortable, but also fervently hoping the wordless invitation was apparent.

Brian was in no rush, however, content to tease him with the lightest of touches, from the crease of his thigh, all the way down to the inside of his knee, and up again. It was delightful and utterly maddening, the thought of Brian’s long fingers touching him where he most needed it, all in public and unbeknownst to everyone around them, like a fantasy that was just out of reach. Freddie escalated their little game first. The temptation to let his own hand wander further became too great and he gave in, inching his hand all the way up to the other man’s crotch. Brian’s hand on his leg stilled, but he did not pull away nor push him away, and so Freddie lay his palm over the bulge in his trousers, feeling his way around leisurely for a moment before he pressed the heel of his hand down against the tip. Fingertips dug into his skin through the stocking and Freddie couldn’t take it anymore. Lowering the binoculars - which he had been holding up only for show for the last ten minutes or so because he had long lost the ability to pay attention to what was going on down there - he turned in his chair and came face to face with Brian, meeting his heavy, half-hooded gaze. The breath Freddie exhaled would have been an audible moan if it hadn’t been for the music, and the tension broke. They fell into each other as one. Freddie clutched Brian’s shirt as he pulled him closer, lips colliding in a kiss which the other man returned with equal fervour. 

“Freddie-” Brian gave a surprised gasp a moment later, breaking away when Freddie’s hand tugged at his belt.

“Shh.” A filthy little grin on his face, Freddie caught Brian’s lower lip between his teeth, pulling the end of his belt free at the same time, skilled fingers working fast and efficiently.

“Not here,” Brian breathed, but Freddie simply silenced him with another kiss, already undoing the top button of his trousers. “ _Fred_ -”

“It’s dark. Who’ll see?” Freddie whispered, eyes gleaming with passionate intent before he leaned close to Brian’s ear, pulling his zip down. “Do you want me to beg, hm?” he purred, putting on his sweetest, sultriest voice. “Please, darling, won’t you let me suck your cock? Please, oh _please_...”

The broken moan, exhaled against the side of his neck, made his own erection strain against his flimsy underwear. He may have put on the voice but the desperate desire to close his lips around the other man’s cock, _now_ , was genuine. Not waiting for an eloquent answer, Freddie smoothly lowered himself to his knees.

“Oh shit, oh _fuck_ ,” Brian mumbled, the words muffled behind his hand, eyeing the velvet curtain separating them from the corridor when Freddie pulled his boxer briefs out of the way. Not wasting a second, Freddie dove in, lips stretching around the hard length. “Oh my God-”

Blowing a guy in public, at the opera of all places, was not the time to take it slow and faff around. Freddie was well aware of that, much as he would have quite liked to take a moment to appreciate Brian’s cock, which was gorgeous like the man himself, thick and slightly curved and- God, he could feel the satiny material of his underwear begin to stick to his leaking cock. He ached down to his balls with need, imagining Brian’s cock stretching him open. All while he took him as deep as he could into his mouth. And then a little deeper still, carefully breathing through his nose and relaxing his throat. The strangled moan he caught over the music a sweeter sound in his ears than Mozart. A hand landed on his head, not pushing or demanding so much as simply gripping a fistful of his hair. Another delightful moan, barely contained, and Brian released his hold, his thumb tracing a line across Freddie’s cheekbone and down to his lips, feeling where they stretched around him as Freddie bobbed his head up and down. Fuck, this was so- Freddie imagined what they looked like, what he looked like, if anyone were to look, and slipped a hand beneath his skirt, gingerly rubbing himself through his underwear. He couldn’t afford to do more than that unless he wanted to make a complete mess of himself, which was not an option.

“Fuck, Freddie-”

Pulling back a bit as his eyes were starting to water and he didn’t want his eyeliner to smudge horribly, Freddie hummed low in his throat and increased the pace a bit more, flicking the tip of his tongue against Brian’s frenulum every time on his way up. The other man’s thighs tensed, legs twitching with sporadic spasms. Down on the stage, the Queen of the Night hit F6, trilling her famous aria.

“I’m- oh God, oh- I’m close. Freddie, I’m close-” 

If Brian had expected his warning to halt proceedings, then it was the exact opposite he achieved. Freddie glanced up at him through his lashes and redoubled his efforts, going just a little bit faster. 

“Oh f-ahhmnhh.” Brian bit down on his knuckles and Freddie only slowed his pace when the other man’s cock grew hotter and harder between his lips, pulsing against his tongue and filling his mouth with the bitter tang of his release. In all honesty, Freddie didn’t love to swallow, but for the thrill of getting Brian off in public like this he was more than willing to put up with the less appealing part. It was far outweighed by how stupidly hot this was, so much so Freddie had to stop touching himself, the satiny thong he was wearing damp with precome.

He pulled off, giving Brian’s spent cock one last, long lick that elicited a whimper, and placed both hands on the other man’s thighs, lifting himself up until they were face to face. There was a dazed smile on Brian’s face, his breath coming in rapid gasps. He was flushed, eyes heavy-lidded, simply and utterly gorgeous. 

“That was fun.” Freddie grinned smugly and leaned in to peck him on the lips before he quickly settled back down on his chair, dabbing away the moisture at the corners of his eyes while trying to keep his eyeliner intact. Beside him, Brian fumbled with his belt, still trying to catch his breath. A moment later, Freddie felt hot breath tickle his ear, a hand on his lower back.

“That… was fucking unbelievable.” Brian leaned into the side of his face with a breathy chuckle. “What planet am I on?”

Still grinning brightly, Freddie turned to him, brushing the tips of their noses together before he gave him another chaste kiss.

“Would you, um.” Brian grinned back at him, caressing his back. “Would you like some water or something?”

Freddie laughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

“Of course.” With a last kiss, pressed to Freddie’s temple, Brian rose to his feet and ducked out through the velvet curtain behind them. Taking a deep breath, in part to try and reign in his excitement a little, Freddie shifted on his chair and leaned onto the bannister to return his attention to the high priest, who had taken centre stage once more.

Brian returned with a bottle of water not much later and scooted as close to him as he could, one arm draped around him for the remainder of the performance. Just two sophisticated young gentlemen at the opera, Freddie thought, glancing over at people twice their age in the other balconies, and barely containing his laughter.

\- - -

“Well.” Brian huffed out a breath which fogged up in the cold night air when they stepped out of the opera house some time later. “I’m pretty sure this is now at the top of my list of most exciting theatre visits.”

Sliding his arm through Brian’s, Freddie laughed rather wickedly. “I’m delighted to hear it.”

“I have a question,” the other man announced. Freddie looked up at him. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmh, no, not particularly.”

“Good.” Brian nodded and took his hand, the glint of determination in his eye. “I’m glad to hear that, too.”

“Why?” asked Freddie, but the next moment Brian was pulling him firmly by the hand across the square, towards the main road.

“Because.” Throwing a look back over his shoulder, Brian smirked. “Hotel.”

“Oh,” said Freddie, and broke into a slow, mischievous smile. “... _Oh_.”

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Urlo for pointing out [the 8th floor of SAKS](http://www.nycstylelittlecannoli.com/2012/03/visit-saks-fifth-avenue-8th-floor-if.html) to me. Sadly Freddie didn't have enough time for shoes! ;)
> 
> I hope some of you are still reading, haha! Let me know your thoughts. ❤️


	11. Flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with some smuuut! Enjoy. This chapter totally got away from me and became two chapters, so there shall we another update at the end of the week. Aren't you lucky. 😜
> 
> Thanks you so much to TartyMoriarty for taking time out of her busy schedule and beta-reading! ❤️
> 
> Soundtrack: Simon Curtis - Flesh

\- - - 

The view really was incredible. No matter how many pictures he had already taken, none of them managed to do it justice. He’d just have to make sure it was ingrained in his mind forever, Freddie thought as he stood in front of the floor length window which made up one wall of the lounge of their hotel suite, overlooking the brilliantly glowing city and the dark vastness of Central Park. 

_Their_ hotel suite. 

Freddie smiled to himself, aware of Brian's footfall approaching, until it stopped right behind him. The thought that there was such a thing as _them_ was too tempting, wary as he was of getting his hopes up too soon. 

Brian reached around him and placed the vodka tonic in his hand. “Your order, monsieur.” 

He had taken off his suit jacket, Freddie noted approvingly. Given the heated glances and wandering hands on the taxi ride back to the hotel, he was frankly surprised they were both still fully dressed. But it was fun to draw out this part a little. The flirtation, the anticipation of it.

Before Freddie could turn around, the other man had embraced him from behind, pressing himself against him, his nose buried in Freddie’s hair. How was it possible that they had known each other such a short time and yet this already felt so wonderfully familiar?

“Merci beaucoup.” Freddie smiled out into the semi-darkness above the city and paused as he lifted the glass to his lips. “Why French?”

“I don’t know.” Brian leaned down, lips seeking out Freddie's neck. “Because you’re so… very… _chic_.” He murmured against his skin between kisses as Freddie tilted his head to give him better access.

"Why, thank you," he uttered in a breathy half-whisper. 

“You’re incredibly welcome.” The timbre of Brian’s voice changed, dropping a little lower. It made Freddie shiver pleasantly. “So…” Brian's lips brushed his ear, hands slowly stroking up his sides and back down to his hips. “You like an audience.”

Mouth suddenly dry although he had just taken a sip of his drink, Freddie huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh, his heart beating faster in his chest. Oh, but he loved _this_ Brian. The one no longer second-guessing himself, but getting straight to the point. Leaving him speechless and wanting. 

Brian gathered some of the material of Freddie's skirt in his hands, pulling it a little higher. "Am I wrong?" 

"No," Freddie breathed, biting his lip. The skirt was hitched higher still, to just above his knees.

"Naughty," Brian murmured into his ear, and Freddie's hardening cock gave a small twitch in response. _Oh yes._ He bit his tongue, short of blurting out that perhaps he was a bad, bad boy who ought to be punished. That would have been taking it too far too soon, although he couldn't stop himself wondering what might have happened if he had said it. The thought Brian's large hand leaving its mark on his backside made his skin tingle. 

"Yes," he uttered instead, wiggling his hips against the other man invitingly. It was then that Freddie realised he had been so focused on the view, he hadn't noticed that he could see their reflection in the window. And that was precisely what Brian was looking at over his shoulder as he pulled the skirt higher and higher until the tops of the stockings were showing.

“Very naughty...” The words tickled the shell of Freddie’s ear, barely a whisper. A cheeky response was on the tip of his tongue. But before he could quite form the words, Brian released the hem of the skirt, letting the heavy material drop, and moved back half a step. “Take it off.”

Freddie couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across his face. "Just the skirt?" 

"Well…" 

Meeting the other man’s eyes in their reflection briefly, Freddie quirked an eyebrow and then turned around, coming face to face with the real thing. He countered Brian’s smirk with a smouldering gaze, lifting a hand up to the other man’s chest.

“What do you want,” Freddie uttered in a low voice and pushed, slowly but firmly, walking Brian backward until he came up against the side of the grand piano. Brian raised an eyebrow and leaned back, one elbow on the closed lid. Watching Freddie with rapt attention. Which was precisely what Freddie wanted him to do. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, absently lifting a hand to rest his fingers over his own lips, covering a small smile that was _definitely_ naughty. Freddie wanted to pull his hand out of the way and kiss him until neither of them had any breath left. 

Instead, he pushed his drink into Brian's hand and took a step back. Then he turned, and produced his mobile from the pocket of his waistcoat. He swiped down for the settings and connected his phone to the Bluetooth speaker system while he walked back to the window, hips swaying. A soft ding of confirmation sounded in the room.

“Alissa,” Freddie turned back to Brian and tossed his phone onto the armchair beside the window. “Start radio with Flesh… by Simon Curtis.”

"Custom radio created," the AI informed him. 

“This feels familiar,” Brian noted, biting back a smile, and took a cheeky sip of Freddie's drink before he placed it aside, on top of the piano. 

“Hmm, doesn’t it just.” A smirk on his lips, Freddie lifted his hands to the top button of his waistcoat, stepping his legs wider as the song he had requested began playing, coming in with a low, fast beat. 

“Except this time...” Freddie unfastened the buttons leisurely, moving half-time with the music, one eyebrow raised, “you can touch.”

Brian shifted against the piano and Freddie rolled his shoulders back, shrugging off the waistcoat to deposit it on the armchair, too. Then he pulled at one end of the black silk bow, his voice low and sultry when he added: "But first… I want you to watch."

"I couldn't look away if I tried," Brian murmured, his head tilted sideways and eyes gleaming. The look on his face was a picture, it set Freddie's very core alight with desire. His pulse was pounding with the beat of the music, the raunchy lyrics spurning him on, making him feel bolder the way his music did when he was on stage. Except this was so much better, because he wasn't doing this for money, or for a stranger. He was doing it just because he could. Because it was oh so exciting. 

Whether Brian was paying the lyrics any mind, Freddie didn't know, but he hadn't chosen the song for nothing. 

_This is just my way of unleashing  
The feelings deep inside of me_

The silk bow followed the waistcoat and Freddie rolled his head from one shoulder to the other, hips swaying side to side in a fluid motion.

_The spark of black that I seem to love…_

Bringing one hand up to his face, he traced his fingertips down over his lips, across his jaw and the side of his neck, the other hand scrunching up the material of the skirt and pulling it up his thigh while he started to unbutton his shirt. 

_We can get a little crazy just for fun  
Just for fun_

Brian’s gaze was following his fingers. The smile slowly faded from his face and his jaw went slack when Freddie slipped his hand into the front of his shirt, teasing his pierced nipple, bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

_Don't even try to hold it back, just let go…_

Even though he was certainly putting on a show, much acting was not required. The sensitive nub hardened under his fingertips, which lingered a few moments longer than he had intended. It felt too good, Brian's dark eyes on him, full of adoration and hunger. 

_Tie me up and take me over  
Till you're done, till I'm done…_

He felt as though an undercurrent of simmering desire had been coursing through him all but non-stop since last night, if not before, and he was wound up so tight it was unbearable. Freddie reached behind himself and unzipped the skirt, winding his body around and pivoting to face the window again as he let it drop to the floor. Stepping out of it, he gracefully kicked it aside, swinging his leg out, and used the momentum to twirl himself back around. Then he let himself fall back the small distance to the glass, shoulder blades against the window. A shock of cold chilled his heated skin through the thin blouse, Brian's gaze a scorching contrast when their eyes met. Freddie's breath caught in his throat a little. That Brian could look like this, could look at _him_ like this. There was no uncertainty now, no awkward smiles. Brian was unashamedly devouring him with his eyes, and Freddie could not bear to wait any longer. 

Sliding one foot up, the heel of his shoe against the window, Freddie stretched out his hand and beckoned Brian closer with his finger.

_Push up to my body, sink your teeth into my flesh…_

Making his way over with a few long strides, Brian slid one hand around the back of Freddie's neck, closing the distance between them, and Freddie lifted his leg, anchoring it on the other man's hip. Brian instinctively caught his thigh even as he leaned down, eyes dark and gleaming, and captured his lips in a kiss that was nothing short of ravenous. Freddie moaned, pushing up against him and pulling him in closer at the same time. 

_Hold my hands above my head  
And push my face into the bed…_

Brian's fingers trailed up his thigh, and around to his arse, squeezing the exposed flesh. 

_Cause I'm a screamer baby, make me a mute_

Pressed against the window and trapped there by the other man's body, Freddie shuddered, hands seeking purchase on Brian's shoulders to pull himself just a little higher. Despite the heels on his boots, the other man was still considerably taller, which - while it was a turn-on Freddie wasn't even going to try and deny - didn't make kissing like this very easy while standing up. However, the next moment, Brian slid his other hand underneath his other thigh and Freddie broke the kiss with a small noise of surprise as he was lifted up. Oh fuck, _yes._

_You can dominate the game 'cause I'm tough_

His arms tightened around Brian's neck and his back slammed back into the window while he quickly wrapped both legs around the other man's hips. 

_So you'd better believe I like it rough_

"Hello," he uttered in a breathy purr, and was silenced with another ravenous kiss, tongues pushing into each other's mouths aggressively and teeth almost clashing. 

_Hold me up against the wall  
Give it till I beg  
Give me some more_

Trapped between the heat of Brian's body and the cold glass, the other man's hands squeezing his arse, Freddie was hyper-aware of every point of contact between them. He could all but feel Brian's heartbeat where they were pressed against each other and rocked his hips against him, the friction so divine. Breaking the kiss, Brian dragged his lips down across Freddie's jaw and sucked a patch of his skin into his mouth.

"Harder…" Freddie uttered in a shaky whisper as he felt the other's mouth pull away too soon. With a low hum, Brian leaned back in with teeth and tongue, undoubtedly leaving marks this time. The touch of pain was like sparks of electricity all down Freddie's spine, adding to the current of desire coursing through him. He dug his nails into the back of the other man's neck, a shuddering moan rolling over his lips, eyes fluttering shut. 

_Push up to my body_  
_Sink your teeth into my flesh…_

Their lips found each other again for a messy kiss, and the next moment Freddie could feel Brian renew his grip on his arse and only just had time to cling on tighter when the other man took a step back from the window. With an appreciative, giddy noise, Freddie broke the kiss and they both chuckled breathlessly while Brian took another couple of unsteady steps back. 

"Oh my-" Freddie all but cackled when he found himself swung around and lifted up onto the lid of the grand piano. "Wow," he purred, running his hand down from Brian's shoulder over his arm. Feeling those muscles flex beneath his touch brought an appreciative grin to his face. Brian wasn't _muscular_ by any stretch of the imagination, but somehow this casual display of machismo was both attractive and adorable. Brian's face was in the crook of his neck as he caught his breath. 

"Aren't you glad I didn't drop you," he chuckled. 

"Delighted," Freddie replied with a giggle, fingers sliding back up to the other man's hair and hooking into the hair tie to pull it loose. The desire to mess up Brian's hair and bury his fingers in them was too great. And he looked so gorgeous when he lifted his head, coming face to face with Freddie, his wild mane of curls framing his face. Freddie swallowed, a shiver running down his spine as he took in the desire in those hazel eyes. But that was nothing compared to the way his insides stirred when Brian leaned back a bit and slowly looked him up and down, from his exposed chest to the outline of his cock in the silky, black knickers. It gave an involuntary twitch under that intense, smouldering gaze and Brian's eyes snapped back up to him, a small smirk on his face. Freddie couldn't help but return it before he pulled his lips over his teeth, eyes half-hooded. 

He shifted, moving his hips forward until his crotch was flush against Brian's stomach, his erection pressed up against him. A part of Freddie was all too aware that this was new territory for one of them. _Are you okay with this?_

The dark look in Brian's eyes answered that question unequivocally. He leaned back in, mouthing his way up the side of Freddie's neck before he caught his earlobe between his teeth. His fingertips, meanwhile, trailed down across Freddie's chest, to his stomach and up the sides of his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Brian brushed the blouse off Freddie's shoulder, first one and then the other, and pulled back a little to watch it slide down his arms. Their eyes met again while Freddie quickly got rid of it entirely before he leaned forward again. Brian met him halfway, like magnets drawn to each other, their lips colliding. They moaned into each other's mouths, the cool cotton of Brian's shirt against Freddie's bare chest. There was something quite exciting about how exposed he felt, in such a state of undress when Brian was still entirely clothed. Not that he wasn't eager to even out that imbalance. However, just now Brian's hands had found their way back to his chest, leisurely raking through the copious amount of chest hair, and Freddie wasn't inclined to stop that exploration. 

He smirked against Brian's lips, pulling back just enough to murmur, "Not quite what you're used to…?" 

Brian tilted his head, eyes trailing down to follow the movement of his hands with a small smile. Instead of an answer, his hand slowly honed in on Freddie's pierced nipple, rubbing his fingertips over it and flicking the ring up and down experimentally. Freddie exhaled a shuddering breath and leaned back on one arm, arching into the touch. _Yes, please…_ Undoubtedly, Brian had noticed the night before, when they'd been making out on the sofa, that Freddie quite liked having his nipples played with. As a matter of fact, he liked it a lot. But most guys went in too rough right away - the piercing especially was very tempting, but could be a bit tender - or else they ignored his nipples almost entirely. Foreplay wasn't always much of a priority, especially when it came to casual hook ups. 

Brian leaned down to leave a trail of kisses along his collarbone while his other hand found the other nipple, much to Freddie's delight. A soft moan escaped him when Brian gently twisted it between his thumb and forefinger, simultaneously tugging at the piercing with his other hand. Freddie held quite still for a little while, his breathing laboured and peppered with soft noises of pleasure, wordless encouragement. It was so good and at the same time not quite enough. His hips had started rocking against the other man of their own accord and gave an involuntary jerk when Brian pinched his nipples lightly. Of course, that only prompted him to do it a few times over, before he tugged at the piercing a bit more sharply, squeezing the other nipple between his fingers. Freddie whined, and Brian's caught his eye. 

"Too much?" 

"Not even _close_ -" Freddie smirked, his voice breathless. 

There was a wicked glint in Brian's eyes as his fingers tightened around the puckered nubs again, quite unforgiving this time. 

"Ah- ah fuck." Freddie's head lolled over to one shoulder, eyes falling shut. As turned on as he already was - as he had been all evening - he now found himself torn between the urge to grab a hold of Brian's hand to shove it down between his legs where he was desperate to be touched, and also not wanting this sweet torture to ever end. So he settled for rubbing himself against the other man the best way he could in his current position.

"I love how much you love this," Brian breathed against the side of his neck after another minute of toying with his nipples, experimenting with the amount of pressure he could apply and the reactions he could coax from Freddie. The music had changed from the fast beat of the first song to a recent new grunge cover of Depeche Mode's _World In My Eyes_. Freddie lost himself in the sensory onslaught of it all. And then Brian bent down lower, simultaneously moving back and depriving Freddie of contact with his body. A needy whimper escaped Freddie as Brian dropped a hand to his hip, holding him there while he sucked the pierced nipple into his mouth. 

"Oh fuck," Freddie whined, caught between the frustration of wanting that friction back and yet paralysed by the wonderful things Brian was doing to him. His tongue toyed with the piercing, tugging lightly, teeth closing around his nipple in a mere suggestion of a bite, while he teased the other between his fingers. 

"Bite it," Freddie heard himself murmur and felt heat rise into his cheeks. He bit down on his lower lip to stifle an embarrassingly loud moan when his request was heeded. _Fuck._ He'd have to stop Brian soon, he'd simply have to, or else-

The shock of pain when Brian sank his teeth into the sensitive nub again, before sucking on it hard, mercilessly pinching the other, put at end to coherent thought for a moment. 

"Oh God-" 

If he hadn't already sucked him off at the opera house, Freddie might have felt a bit more conscious of the fact that he wasn't returning any favours at this point. However, he wasn't given much of a chance to think about anything when the other man didn't give him so much as a moment to catch his breath, but pulled off and switched sides, treating the other nipple, already swollen and tender, to the heat of his mouth and the sharp edge of his teeth. Freddie hissed and gripped a fistful of curly hair, trembling all over with the intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure. 

"Fuck- fuck, Bri-" he whimpered urgently, blinking his eyes open, vaguely meaning to point out that there was a good chance he would come like this if Brian so much as pressed a hand against his cock right now. He managed, at the very least, to get Brian’s attention. The other man looked nothing short of smug, wickedly delighted almost, when he lifted his head and met Freddie’s eyes. 

“Bed,” Freddie moaned, the word half a question, half a plea. The condoms were in the bedroom. And the lube. That was, if Brian wanted to, and by God, Freddie _wanted_. Wanted to get his hands and his mouth on the other man again, wanted to feel him, hard against his own throbbing hardness, wanted to bury his face in the pillows and spread his legs and take it, come on Brian’s cock, fuck, the very thought- Right now he wanted it _all_. 

Freddie jerked when Brian twisted his piercing sharply, watching him with a look of hungry fascination on his face.

“Don’t think I’m quite done here,” he replied, voice low and playful, its husky tone sending a shiver down Freddie’s spine. And he dipped down on the other side and sucked on Freddie’s pierced nipple, hard, making him curse again, then pulled back and blew on it, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger all the while. The stream of cool air alone was enough to make Freddie shudder and ache with need down to his balls, thighs trembling. 

“Do you _want_ me to stop?” Brian asked innocently, rubbing the coarse beard hair on his chin against him before he mouthed his way back up to his neck, then his ear. Flicking his nipples as though he was expertly plucking the strings of a guitar.

“No,” Freddie moaned without thinking, “yes, fuck-” Brian licked into the shell of his ear, closing the distance between them again and allowing him to press his rock hard cock against him. Freddie’s hips jerked forward of their own accord, the noise that escaped him almost a sob. “I’mgonnafuckingcome,” he gasped all in one breath, wrapping his legs around the other man and pulling him closer, entirely unable to help himself, “if you don’t stop, ah-”

The obscene moan against his ear cut him off, the sound of it shooting straight to his groin. 

“God, that’s so...” Brian’s voice was breathless. He dragged his lips across Freddie’s jaw, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss while his hands slowed right down, alternating sweet torment with featherlight touch. Even those soothing caresses were now enough to send small shock waves of pleasure through Freddie. His nipples felt _raw_. “Just like that, huh?” Brian murmured against his lips, applying more pressure again and twisting his over-sensitive, puckered nubs a little. “You’re gonna come like this?” he asked, glancing down between their bodies, where Freddie was rocking himself against him, soaking the knickers with precome where the head of his cock strained against the material. “That’s so fucking hot,” Brian moaned, “ _Freddie_ -”

Freddie made a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl as their lips collided again, burying both of his hands in the other man’s hair. Yes, God, _yes_ , he wanted to hear Brian moan his name just like this all night, all day, always. His whimpers grew more desperate. He was so ridiculously close, but his range of movement and the angle were frustratingly restrictive. It occurred to him dimly that he had accepted his fate. He was going to fucking come untouched, rubbing up on Brian like a horny little slut. What were the chances, anyway, that he might get Brian to call him his little slut…? Freddie’s mind decided to throw that question at him and he couldn’t help but smirk against the other man’s lips, although the next moment the ability to form any coherent thought abandoned him. One of Brian’s hands had slipped down between them and Freddie forgot to breathe, forgot to kiss Brian back, when the other man hooked his fingers into the elastic of his knickers and pulled them out of the way.

“Oh fuck, yes, ahhyes please-” The words tumbled out amidst broken moans. Freddie dropped his head back, eyes screwed shut, Brian’s teeth on his throat, twisting his nipple ring between his fingers while he tossed him off rough and fast. “Ohfuckohfuck _ohfuck_ -” 

It didn’t take more than a few seconds and Freddie came with a noise so high-pitched it would have been a bit mortifying, if he hadn’t been so far gone beyond embarrassment and every other feeling outside of the intense tremors of ecstasy tearing through him.

He very nearly headbutted Brian when he brought his head forward again, reality seeping back in even as aftershocks still coursed through him, making him whimper. 

“Sorry, shit,” were the first slurred words out of his mouth when he looked down at himself, at Brian’s hand on him. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t, don’t...”

Warm fingers on his cheek and soft lips pressed to the corner of his mouth. Freddie exhaled a shuddering breath, turning his head slightly to kiss Brian back, all lips and tenderness. Brian’s face came into focus when he pulled back, grinning at him. “I’ll get tissues.”

“Yes,” Freddie murmured weakly, and slowly lay back to keep the mess somewhat contained to his abdomen until he could wipe himself down. Listening to the water running in the small bathroom just off of the lounge, Freddie broke into a slow smile and sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Alissa, pause playback," he called into the room. The Billie Eilish track which was currently playing cut off with a pling. 

When Brian returned a moment later, Freddie was snickering quietly to himself, only more so when the other man gave him a curious look while he handed him a wad of tissue.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie began to clean himself up, stomach muscles still twitching from barely contained snickers. “I don’t think I’ve ever defiled a Steinway before," he giggled, and Brian chortled, too." Excuse me, room service? Could you wipe down the piano, it’s got a spot of- oh, dearie me, I can’t-” He dissolved into laughter again, tossing the dirty tissue onto the floor as he slid off the lid of the piano somewhat ungracefully. 

Brian caught him, sliding an arm around his waist, and Freddie leaned his cheek against his chest, breathing in the other man’s scent.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, reaching down with one hand to tuck away his softening cock. God, the knickers definitely needed a wash. Better still to take them off soon, of course. “Give me a minute and we can… you know… you can… whatever you like,” he drawled, sliding one hand up to cup the back of Brian’s neck and angling his head so he could give him what he hoped was a suggestive look.

Brian chuckled, a lovely, low sound in his chest, against which Freddie was currently pressed. “Freddie, I’m fine.” 

Freddie pursed his lips in a pout, frowning. “But it’s your turn…”

“Um, I’m pretty sure it was my turn at the opera,” Brian pointed out, one eyebrow raised. There was a twinkle in his eye when he added: “Which was pretty incredible, by the way.” He raised a hand to Freddie’s face, brushing his hair out of his face. “As was this.”

“But-”

Brian bent down and cut him off with a kiss, sliding his arms around him. With a contented hum, Freddie melted into the embrace, shivering a little at the way his sore nipples rubbed against the other man’s shirt.

“I know what I could probably do again,” Brian grinned, breaking the kiss, and before Freddie could so much as murmur 'what', he bent down to slide one arm underneath his legs.

Freddie squealed when he was lifted off the ground and slung his arms around Brian’s shoulders. “Put me down!”

“Don't wiggle!”

“You’ll put your back out,” Freddie wheezed while Brian staggered around the side of the grand piano.

“Ye of little faith,” he huffed, carrying him towards the doorway that led to the bedroom.

“Brian, put me _down_!”

“No!”

Freddie threw his head back with a great, honking laugh and narrowly avoided hitting it on the door frame. "Wait, my shoes! I've got shoes on!" 

It was a surprise really that with all the laughter that ensued, Brian did not, in fact, drop him. 

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! 💕 Talk to me! 😊
> 
> [Also, this chapter was lightly inspired by the awesome fanart @dollyyoursun drew for me over on tumblr a while ago!](https://dollyyoursun.tumblr.com/post/625093273949765632/frian-inspired-by-one-of-the-drawing-tutorials)


	12. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to mention here again that I'm trying to translate these "characters" to a different generation, and so this is simply my take on what their lives might have been, had they been born in a different time.
> 
> Big thanks to the best, speediest beta reader, TartyMoriarty! 💕
> 
> Soundtrack: Pray - Sam Smith

\- - -

They made it to the bedroom, only just, and collapsed on the bed there, Brian on top of Freddie, catching his breath and snickering.

“Who do you take me for?” Freddie snorted, slapping the other man’s shoulder playfully. “I’m not one of your dainty girlfriends, you fucker!”

“One of them,” Brian laughed, his head resting on Freddie’s stomach. "One of the many, _many_...” He trailed off into laughter when Freddie gave him a gentle but insistent shove.

“Let me get my shoes off, for goodness’ sake-”

Brian left a few tickly kisses along Freddie’s ribs before he pulled himself up, climbing off the bed to stand beside it. Once he had got rid of his boots, Freddie lay back and looked up at Brian, who had got as far as undoing his tie. A slow grin spread out on Freddie’s face and he stretched out his arms leisurely, crossing them behind his head while he looked the other man up and down. 

“What?” Brian smiled, a little self-consciously, leaving his tie on the bedside table. 

The grin on Freddie's face grew a little more wicked. “Nothing. I’m just quite content lying here and watching you take _your_ clothes off for me.”

“Oh… I see.” The other man inclined his head and looked as though he was contemplating something for a moment, his hands hovering around the collar of his shirt. “Like this?” he asked, and lifted his chin a bit, undoing the first few buttons with what was evidently an attempt at a sexy shoulder wiggle. 

Freddie hummed and bit his lip, watching Brian’s dexterous fingers. He did have very beautiful hands. Freddie liked men’s hands. The nice ones. Well-kept and long-fingered, large but elegant. _Aristocratic_ hands, the thought, and was torn out of his musings by an awkward chuckle.

“I'm afraid I'm not very good at this,” Brian commented, the smile on his face somewhat abashed as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Still, to his credit, he lowered his eyes with a smirk and rolled his shoulders, shrugging it off. 

“Ooh, I think you’re doing just fine.” Freddie giggled and quickly pressed his lips together to refrain from laughing, because he really wasn’t laughing at Brian trying to undress seductively but at how adorably out of his depth he clearly felt doing it. But it was already too late to explain as much.

“Liar,” Brian snorted, half amused and half embarrassed, and threw his shirt at him. It landed on Freddie’s face, momentarily obscuring his view. When he pulled it away, the other man had unbuckled his belt and was unfastening his trousers rather more hurriedly. Catching Freddie's eye, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and quickly pulled them down, straightening up again with his arms stretched out to the sides. “Tada!” 

This time, Freddie couldn't help but snicker uncontrollably, so much so that he had to press a hand over his mouth. Brian, meanwhile, stepped out of his trousers, pulled off his socks and climbed back onto the bed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. 

“Laugh it up,” he tutted, crawling up to Freddie and positioning himself on top of him. “See if I take off my clothes for you again.”

“I'm sorry,” Freddie chuckled, reaching up to touch Brian's cheek. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling, I can’t- That was adorable, I love you.” 

_Shit._ The words had slipped out quite of their own accord. ‘It, I mean, I love _it_ …’ Freddie had a mind to add, but didn't, because that would only draw attention to what he had said instead. He held Brian's gaze for a moment, barely breathing. Afraid to look away, to react at all to his own accidental, premature, _foolish_ confession. Maybe if he acted like he hadn't even noticed that he'd said it, Brian wouldn't think anything of it. Just a slip of the tongue. And it was, it really was. What sort of sentimental idiot would he be to think that he was in love with somebody he had met less than a week ago? 

But Brian just blinked slowly, his expression quite serious as he looked back at him for several painfully long seconds. Before he leaned down, lowering himself on top of Freddie, chest to chest, and captured his mouth in a slow, heartfelt kiss. Freddie thought his heart must have stopped before, because it was then that it began to beat again, fluttering against his ribs like a caged bird. It made him feel so breathless that he had to break away with a shuddering inhale, before he dove back in, wrapping his arms around Brian. The comforting intimacy of finally lying skin to skin, wrapped up in each other, somewhat soothed his anxieties. It was alright. If Brian wasn’t going to say anything about it, Freddie most certainly wasn’t going to either. Best to just brush it under the carpet quickly, ignore that small hiccup in what was otherwise turning out to be a perfect evening. 

They rolled over to lie side by side, one of Freddie’s legs up on Brian’s hip, kissing leisurely and deeply for a few more minutes. Until the goosebumps on Freddie’s skin were no longer a result of the cool sheets but, quite on the contrary, the heat of their embrace. The awareness that nothing much separated them now but a couple of layers of thin material. Firsts were magical, Freddie thought, because the older you got, the fewer of them remained. He was running out of them, he thought sometimes. And perhaps he was a little more addicted to the thrill of firsts - first glances, first words, first touches - than he liked to admit. Perhaps it was that which made him so chronically unsuitable to any steadiness in his love life, but so what? Better to have lived, surely, then to miss the rush of living. Pushing those unnecessary whirling thoughts aside, Freddie lost himself in these moments of firsts which were all the sweeter for how close he felt to Brian. Because that was different, that was special, and who knew? The hopeless romantic in him, although jaded, still wanted to believe that maybe there was somebody out there who could make every new day feel like a first. Over and over again. 

Brian pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, both of them catching their breath. The haze of enjoyment Freddie had been floating in cleared a little when he saw how serious the other man’s face was.

“Listen,” Brian uttered, and Freddie’s heart seized up. Oh God. 

_’Listen, Freddie, I’m not sure that I’m really looking for...’_   
_’I don’t think this is a good idea…’_   
_’It’s not you, I just don’t…’_

“Is it alright with you,” was what Brian said instead, looking desperately apologetic, “if we don’t… do anything else tonight?”

“Of course,” Freddie breathed, awash with relief. “Of course it is.”

“Um, it's not that I don't want to…” Brian added in a low whisper and lowered his eyes, sliding his thigh between Freddie's legs and pressing the firm bulge in his boxer briefs up against him. Freddie hummed, pushing his own hips forward a little to meet him. “It's just,” Brian huffed out a breath, “a lot. Right now, all this. Not just this, but… everything. And I've never, I mean… you know…” 

“I know.” Freddie smirked, his hands caressing Brian's back as he brushed their lips together. Not quite a kiss. “I'll be delighted to show you a thing or two…” Brian met his eyes again, caught between curiosity and hesitation. “Whenever you want,” Freddie added huskily. His own cock was taking a keen interest again as he rocked himself against Brian's erection. Evidently it was holding out hope that 'whenever' could still turn into 'right now'. He hadn't ever been very good at taking it slow. 

However, Brian took a deep breath and moved back a bit, separating himself from him, as he kissed a trail from Freddie’s neck down to his shoulder. One of his hands, in the meantime, traced the silky line of the knickers Freddie was wearing and then squeezed his arse. 

“You look incredible in these,” he murmured against Freddie's shoulder and moved on to his upper arm as though he intended to cover every part of him in kisses. His fingers slid across Freddie's hip to his thigh, where the hold up stockings ended. “These too.”

“Brian, darling,” Freddie purred with a smile, fingers tangling in the other man's hair. “If you want to stop, you'll have to stop turning me on… Unless you don't want to stop…”

It was worth a try. 

However, Brian stilled, and then turned his face away, sliding one arm around Freddie's waist and curling up beside him.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, his head heavy on Freddie's stomach. “I wish…” 

His voice trailed off into silence. Freddie was sorry, too. Sorry that it was always _this_ they kept coming back to, because he had a feeling that he knew exactly where Brian was now, in his head. Those all-consuming worries of his which were responsible for the deep sadness Freddie sensed but couldn't understand. This unknown place of misery where he couldn't follow. 

“ _I_ wish you'd tell me what's really going on with you,” he said quietly. 

The ensuing silence was even longer. Freddie had begun to think he wasn’t going to get an answer when Brian finally took a deep breath and sighed with all the world-weariness of a character in a Chekhov drama. 

“There's a press conference on Friday,” he said quietly, “as you know.”

Not wanting to interrupt, Freddie said nothing, just ran his fingers through the other man's hair soothingly, watching the way the curls parted. 

“I have to give a… a presentation, well… a speech. Singing the praises of… this project I've dedicated the last three years of my life to.”

“The space hotel.” 

“Yes… I suppose that's what we're calling it,” Brian grumbled. “Only that wasn't what it was meant to be, before they… before those who could afford to have a say took over.” He paused, a bitter edge to his voice when he continued. “Everything goes to the highest bidder, always, doesn't it. No way around it, no matter how hard you try.”

“Well…” Freddie sighed, not entirely sure if he could disagree with that in any meaningful way. 

“Even you,” Brian said, and Freddie closed his mouth, his hand stilling in Brian’s hair. There was no sting in the comment. The other man’s tone was not accusatory as such. Just defeated. “If I hadn't had the money, we would have never spoken in private. You wouldn't be here.” 

This wasn't an observation Freddie felt very comfortable with, because it was true, but at the same time, he didn't want that to matter. He wasn't here, lying in bed with Brian, because of the money. Well, not in that way. It was… it wasn't as simple as that. The cool air in the room seemed to have caught up with him again and Freddie shivered, which did not go unnoticed. 

“Are you cold?” Brian asked, lifting his head.

“A little, not really…” 

But Brian simply reached behind himself for one end of the large duvet, folding it over the both of them. Then he settled down again, moving up a little higher to rest his head on Freddie’s shoulder. Curled up oddly small beside him, for all his long limbs, one hand on Freddie’s chest.

“So… what was it supposed to be then, originally?" Freddie settled in comfortably with one arm around Brian’s shoulders. “This space station of yours.”

“Well.” Brian shifted a little. “A… a research facility in space, if you will. On a grander scale than anything humanity has ever created.” 

“Gosh.”

Brian tutted, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah. Such potential, I can't begin to… Just, the chance, you know… to explore so much further than we've ever been able to before.” 

“How come that isn’t the plan anymore?” Freddie asked, lips brushing soft curls as he turned his head towards Brian a little. 

“No, I suppose it still is.” Brian replied dryly. “Unfortunately, it isn't the only or the main objective anymore.”

“So…” Trying to piece it all together in his head, Freddie frowned at the ceiling. “So did commercialism ruin your science project? Oh, I don't mean…” he tagged on quickly. “I don't mean to sound like that isn't a big deal.”

Brian snorted, absently stroking Freddie's side with his fingertips. “It's alright, I don't expect you to understand.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that. I’m not a _moron_ -” 

“No, no, I didn’t mean,” Brian quickly interjected. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that there's too much I can't tell you. But… look, all I can tell you is that it's more than that. More than… than not getting my way, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His voice turned bitter again, darker. “I don't feel like I can… no, I can't. Simple as that. I can't support where it's all going. Morally, I mean. I can't do that and… and live with myself. Frankly, I don’t know how anybody can.”

“Right.” That sounded terribly ominous. Freddie really wasn't sure what to say, most of all because he had no idea what exactly Brian was talking about. It seemed very serious, but the man was a scientist. For all Freddie knew this was about some billionaire being allowed to name every newly discovered celestial object after one of their chihuahuas. 

“If it bothers you that much…” Freddie ventured carefully, “can't you just… resign?” 

Brian was quiet for some time. 

“It's… not about me,” he said eventually. “Not only about me, I mean. And I'm afraid if… well, I could just leave, yes, and believe me… I've considered it. But I'd still be responsible. I can't undo what I've already done, I'm already complicit. And even if I left now, if I cut all ties… even if I could live with that, I don't know that they would just let me… do that. When I know so much. Look, Freddie, I don't think you understand.” 

No, Freddie really didn’t think that he did, because it almost sounded as though Brian was talking about the Mafia now, and Freddie was pretty sure that couldn’t really be the case. Could it? 

Brian’s voice grew quieter still, barely above a whisper. “The people I work for… they have so much power. It’s inconceivable. They have _all_ the power, there's nothing I can do-" He broke off and swallowed, wrapping his arm around Freddie tighter. “I don't know what to do. I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you any of this, it isn't your problem and you shouldn't have to… to put up with…”

“No, it's alright.” Freddie hugged him closer in return, wondering what else he could possibly say. He was as confused as he was unsettled now, unable to imagine what in the world it was that Brian was really talking about. Because for the first time, it wasn’t just that Brian seemed miserable about it all. But _afraid_. “I'm sorry, dear,” Freddie offered sympathetically. “I'm sorry you're having such a hard time with this. But, I mean, look, is any of it really your fault? Your… your company's plans, they weren't _your_ plans,” he found himself rambling, trying to reassure himself as well as Brian that it couldn’t possibly be so bad. “This isn’t what you signed up for. It's out of your hands. You can't blame yourself like that, you couldn't have known it would all turn out this way.”

“But I know _now_.” Brian replied. “And they're asking me to put my name behind it, to actively endorse it. If I do that, I'm every bit as guilty, and if I don't… I don't know that it will make much of a difference if I don't, to be honest. Except it will look bad, you see? For them. The press will find out their CSO quit. And they'll have to find a way… to explain, and-” He broke off with a sound of frustration, something between a groan and a growl. “Look, I really shouldn't have started talking about it.”

With that, Brian threw back the duvet and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. 

“No, don’t worry, please-” Freddie pulled himself up to sitting as well. “I don't mind.”

“But I do.” Already on his feet beside the bed, Brian turned to him, a pleading look in his eyes. “Please, I just want… it's been so nice, having you here, I can’t tell you. You've reminded me there's still other things that… that also matter.” He inclined his head, shoulders slumped, and spread his arms out in a helpless sort of gesture. “I feel like I've been losing my mind and being able to forget about it all, even just for a little while, even if it won’t make a difference…” A rueful smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his arms dejectedly, and it made Freddie's heart ache. 

“Darling.” He shifted closer to Brian and raised himself up on his knees in front of him, wanting nothing more than to kiss it better, if only he could. Brian instinctively moved toward him and allowed himself to be embraced, draping his arms around Freddie's shoulders. 

“I've thought about nothing else for months, Freddie, I'm begging you. I want,” he uttered, “I don't want it to ruin this, too.” 

“Okay,” Freddie whispered, closing his eyes for a moment and hugging the other man tightly. “That's okay, don’t you worry, darling.” 

It wasn't ‘okay’. Not really. How was Freddie supposed to just forget about the fact that Brian evidently saw himself trapped in a situation which had no way out? Something that tormented him so much, and would all come to a head the day after tomorrow? And Freddie couldn't even be here to pick up the pieces. His flight back to London was in the early afternoon. 

It was Freddie who was worried now, very much so. About this man he barely knew, but yet felt such a connection with. Something that rarely happened, if ever it did. 

“Thank you,” Brian whispered back, his smile much warmer when Freddie looked up at him. When he tried to pull back, Freddie held on tighter, and Brian’s smile widened. “I'll just go put my pyjamas on. I'll be right back, I promise.”

\- - -

They reconvened in the large bed not much later, in their pyjamas, after what could only be described as an oddly domestic bedtime routine. By the time Freddie had put his own pyjamas on, Brian had come to join him in the large bathroom with his toothbrush. They had brushed their teeth side by side and shared a chaste, toothpaste-y kiss. Brian had marvelled at Freddie's assortment of skincare products, then worriedly investigated the scrape on his forehead when Freddie had clipped his hair back to sort out his face. This had invariably led to Freddie pulling down his pyjama bottoms and showing off the bruises on his legs as well, which the stockings had kept hidden before. Once Brian had apologised roughly half a dozen times and all but smothered him in hugs and kisses - which Freddie had proclaimed was all entirely unnecessary, even though he had secretly adored it - they had finally settled in beside each other in bed, phones in hand. 

It was very cozy, really, and comforting in a way Freddie felt he had been missing for a long time. Of course, it also wasn't real. This wasn't his reality. This wasn't his life, it was a brief adventure he would leave behind all too soon, Freddie was keenly aware. And then? He did not dare think further because everything Brian had told him still hung over them, unspoken of now but very much there at the back of Freddie's mind. 

He glanced at Brian, who was frowning at his phone screen, and decided to try and do what Brian had asked of him. To try and help in the only way he could, by taking his mind off the matter. And he'd thought of just the thing. 

“Can I show you something ghastly?” Freddie asked, a small grin on his face. 

“Yes,” Brian finished typing something, and looked momentarily relieved. “Yes, just a moment… so, some good news, I suppose. I don't have to be anywhere until midday tomorrow.”

“Ooh, lie in. Lovely.” Freddie had already opened YouTube, searching for the right video and skipping past the beginning. He was already half regretting what he was about to do, but it was too late now. 

“Yeah…” Putting his phone aside, Brian turned to look at him. “Right, sorry. What's this?” 

“God. Alright, hang on…” Freddie grimaced as he turned up the volume and pressed play, handing the phone over. Then he quickly grabbed one of the decorative cushions beside him and sank lower on the bed, pulling it over his face. “I don't need to see it again,” he explained from behind it, “I _can't_.” 

“Okay?” Brian chuckled. Freddie could hear the applause of the crowd now. Oh God, why hadn't he skipped the introduction bit as well as the interview at the beginning? 

“Oh wow. Is that-” 

“Yes,” Freddie mumbled. 

“Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“When was this? I mean, how old-”

“Shh,” Freddie silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Watch.” 

There was really no need to see it again. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t watched it back a million times over the years. He could still see the looks on the judges faces, the raised eyebrows when he introduced himself - _'Freddie Bulsara, London, sixteen'_ \- voice trembling and clinging on to the mic, looking like the proverbial deer in headlights on that enormous stage. That awful late 2010s haircut, short on the sides and curly on top, making his ears look huge, his skinny face all teeth and awkwardness. 

_'Right, Freddie.' Simon bloody Cowell. Ugh. 'What have you got for us today?'_

_'Pray by, um, by Sam Smith?'_

Freddie cringed. Terrible idea. Terrible song choice. Why, oh why. 

“Wow,” Brian marvelled, “I can't believe you were on the X-Factor.” 

“Should've gone on Britain's Got Talent,” Freddie mumbled into the cushion, fairly wanting to cover his ears when he heard the first few notes. He’d been so nervous he had all but choked for lack of breath, and his voice has lost all its depth as a result. “I should’ve played the piano and-”

“Shh!” This time it was Brian who shushed him and Freddie took a small peek at him from behind his cushion. He was looking at the screen, quite rapt, a warm smile on his face.

“I'm much better now,” Freddie couldn't help but throw in, the moment his sixteen-year-old self went for the first high notes. “I promise.” 

“Shush.”

Biting his lips, Freddie fell silent, and lay very still, pressing the cushion over his face for his entire rendition of the song, or as far as he got, before Simon raised his hand and the music stopped. The audience, at least, hadn’t hated him. There was a fair bit of applause and a close up of some woman mouthing ‘so sweet’ to her friend. But before Freddie's inner eye hovered the close ups on Simon Cowell, eyebrows raised as he grimaced sceptically, exchanging looks with the other judges. Robbie Williams and his wife and that guy Louis from One Direction.

_'Listen, Freddie. You’ve got a lovely voice, I think we can all agree. But it’s just… it’s not quite there, I’m afraid. What you’ve done is you’ve picked a song that’s really challenging, technically, and if you do that you’ve got to deliver. You’ve got to. And in my opinion-’_

“Oh, shut up,” Brian scoffed, while Simon Cowell went on to list Freddie’s various short-comings, which essentially came down to: wrong song, lacklustre performance, lack of technical skill, lack of stage presence. The latter, in particular, had hurt. Because it was true, but at the same time he had been so convinced that he had it in him to command the stage and wow everybody. Only that day, he hadn’t been ready. 

_‘There’s putting your heart in it,’ Simon was saying, once Freddie had left the stage, not without a lovely close up of his teary-eyed face, ‘and then there’s-’_

_'Oh, stop it! He did put his heart in it!' Robbie’s wife protested, and some people in the audience applauded._

_'I'm sorry,' Simon retorted, 'but I think he sounded like a strangled sheep!'_

The audience broke out laughing.

“Alright, that's enough of that,” Freddie groaned and pulled the cushion away, taking his phone out of Brian's hands. With a tut and a shake of his head, he paused the video and locked the screen, putting the phone down beside him.

“I'm sorry,” Brian said sympathetically. “I thought you were brilliant.” 

“Please, don't. It’s alright.” Freddie smiled and ruffled his hair, leaning back against the pillows. 

“Simon Cowell's a prat.” 

“Yeah, he is.” 

A hand wrapped around Freddie's, where his fingers were fidgeting on top of the duvet, and gave him a gentle squeeze.

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Freddie bit his lips, still not quite looking at Brian. “He’s not wrong, I got ahead of myself. I wasn’t ready.”

Brian stroked his thumb over the back of Freddie’s hand with a thoughtful hum. “Did you ever think about trying again? Later?”

“No.” Freddie snorted and intertwined his fingers with Brian’s, glancing up at him. “For one, I’d begged my parents to go to the audition for months and promised that if it didn’t work out, I’d go to college.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. And anyway, it was for the best. I don’t know that… it would have been what I wanted, not… not like that. It’s all so... artificial. Churning out superstar after superstar… oh, I don’t know.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Brian agreed. “It feels like the music industry lost some of its authenticity when all the boybands and girlbands came along in the 90s.”

“Yes, that’s true. But, you know, even so there have always been people who stood out and who no one thought could make it, until they did…”

Their conversation very quickly turned to the boom of all those shows which had felt like nothing more than ‘fame-factories’ in the early 2000s, how distant and irrelevant some of the big names which had emerged from them seemed now, and the artists and bands which had risen to fame in their own right. Lounging in bed, they talked about how much slimmer the chances were to make it big in music now with a population of billions more than had been alive in the 60s and 70s during the Classic Rock era. About how much the concept of what constituted fame had shifted over time. About social media and how, in part, trends had become people-led and not industry-led. 

Freddie told Brian about his last band which had ended up going nowhere, and Brian told him how much he had agonised over the decision to pursue science rather than music. For a while they lay wondering what their lives could have been, had their decisions been different.

“But you can’t think in what ifs,” Brian pointed out finally.

“Precisely,” Freddie concurred, his head on the other man’s shoulder and one leg draped over him. “You can’t change the past, you can only move forward.”

Silence fell for the first time in an hour, and Freddie finally remembered how all this had started. “I showed you that, by the way,” he said quietly, fingertips drawing patterns on Brian’s chest. “My audition, I mean… Because it was one of the most dreadful moments in my life. Honestly, it felt like that was my one chance, and I blew it. I wanted to _die_.”

“Aww,” Brian turned his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Freddie’s head.

“But,” Freddie continued, “life went on. And it always does, don’t you think? No matter what happens. Life goes on…”

“I know.” 

Raising his head up, Freddie caught Brian’s eye. There was a melancholic sort of smile on the other man’s face.

“I know what you’re saying,” he murmured with a small nod, stroking his fingers up and down Freddie’s back. “Thank you.”

Shifting a little, Freddie pulled himself up as Brian shifted onto his side until they were nose to nose, holding each other in a loose embrace. All the words had been said, or so it appeared, and their lips found each other again instead. It was surely ridiculous, Freddie thought, what an impossibly emotional bloody mess he was around this man. How full his heart felt, now that they had come so close, in more ways than one. Full to bursting, when they eventually switched off the lights and Brian curled up behind him with a kiss pressed to Freddie’s shoulder, arms wrapped around him. As if that was where he belonged. Where he could belong.

And Freddie fervently wished that it was so.

_Maybe I’ll pray…_

\- - -

“Shit.”

Freddie groaned, roused by the sound of Brian’s voice, his hair in his face.

“What?” Brian sounded rather annoyed. “Oh, come on.”

Half-awake, Freddie blinked his eyes open and lifted his head up, becoming aware of Brian beside him bathed in pale morning light. He was sitting up, slouched over his phone, the grumpy expression on his face illuminated by the blue-ish glow from the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Freddie mumbled through a yawn.

“Sorry,” Brian grumbled, shaking his head. “It’s just… fuck, can’t I have one morning-” He broke off with a vexed sigh and gave Freddie an exasperated look. “It’s bloody work. Some sort of meeting they’ve decided to have last minute. I’ve no idea what the fuck this is supposed to be about.”

“Oh no,” was all Freddie could think to supply sleepily.

Brian’s face softened and he leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got to go see what it’s about, I don’t see why they can’t do a video conference.” He groaned, throwing back the duvet. “Don’t get up. I literally have to run out the door, I’ll message you as soon as I know when I’ll be free.”

“Mmh.” Freddie stretched and blinked slowly, turning over in bed. “Shame, ‘m sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” Brian had rounded the bed and bent over him for a moment, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and leaving another few kisses there. Freddie giggled softly, capturing Brian’s lips for a moment before the other man could pull away completely. “I’ll be back soon, I hope.”

“Hope so too,” Freddie murmured, smiling dreamily as he watched Brian leave the bedroom, before his heavy eyelids closed again.

However, instead of going back to sleep, he found himself slowly waking up and coming to a little more while he listened to Brian pottering around the lounge. By the time the door fell into its lock, Freddie had begun to feel a little uneasy. Given everything Brian had told him last night, he really hoped it wasn’t anything terribly serious or complicated he’d have to deal with this morning. 

Stretching lazily and relishing the way his back clicked, Freddie decided he might as well get up. Fingers crossed that everything was alright, or as alright as it could be, he thought, drawing back the blinds and letting the morning sun shine into the room unhindered. A smile found its way onto his face all of its own accord at the memory of the night before. 

Freddie located his fluffy hotel robe and all but skipped off to the bathroom, already making plans in his mind for their last evening together, and even daring to dream a little, beyond that. Because Brian was, after all, also coming back to London at the end of the working week. And Freddie would be waiting, all too happy to help lift his spirits, no matter how everything turned out with his work. 

After a short shower, Freddie threw on the bathrobe and went to check his phone, anxious to see if Brian had messaged him yet. He hadn’t, but even as Freddie put the phone back down on the nightstand, he heard a knock at the door. His heart leapt and his face lit up. Room service never came around this early. 

It had to be Brian. Maybe he hadn’t been needed after all? 

Still barefoot, hair damp and tangled and the robe barely tied, Freddie jogged through to the lounge with a grin.

“Hello agai-” The words died in his throat as he swung the door open and his heart dropped like a bird shot in flight, joy turning to shock.

“Hello again,” echoed the man standing in front of him in a cool, mocking voice, an awfully smug smirk on his face as he looked him up and down. “Freddie. Can I come in?”

Freddie’s throat felt too tight to answer. Standing before him was none other than Paul Prenter. Who had just addressed him by his real name.

\- - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGERRR 🙈 I am sorry!
> 
> Let me know your thoughts, please! Also, you may have seen it on Tumblr already, but [I have an important announcement to make.](https://a-froger-epic.tumblr.com/post/641590788286038016)


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